Spelled Voiceless
by Ivycloak
Summary: That fateful night in the astronomy tower at the end of sixth year, Harry is hit with an unknown spell, rendering him mute. Dealing with whole new problems and having discovered Voldemort's secret to immortality that very night, Harry must now endeavor to defeat Voldemort. Voiceless. Canon up to end of HBP. AU DH. Eventual Powerful!Harry. Hogwarts Deathly Hallows.
1. Nightmares in Reality

I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

Harry watched, helpless from Dumbledore's _petrificus totalus_ and concealed by the invisibility cloak, as Snape cast the killing curse at the headmaster. As if in a dream Harry saw Dumbledore topple over the edge of the tower, the death eaters transfixed by the sight of their most powerful enemy falling, dead.

Dead.

That word rang through Harry's head over and over. Dumbledore, the man who had protected him, who had always had such faith in him, was dead. He didn't even notice as the Death eaters started to celebrate their victory by casting multi-colored spells around the room. Harry wasn't awoken from his horror-induced trance until a scarlet spell collided with the wall beside him. Suddenly, Harry realized that he was in great danger. He couldn't move, and no one knew that he was there. One of those spells could easily hit him, causing who-knew-what. And if the wildly ecstatic death eaters decided to start hurling around the killing curse, then Dumbledore could very well not be the only murder of the night…

Harry held his breath as he watched the spells hurtling around him. Snape, Malfoy, and Greyback realized that they were endangering each other and stopped their spell-casting, instead focusing on dodging the wild curses cast by their colleagues. Bellatrix was in a frenzy, screaming victory and casting the most curses of all.

Harry hated the very sight of her.

She was now the only death eater still celebrating with her curses. She was spinning, whipping her wand through the air, laughing hysterically and yelling praise for the "dark lord" and insults at Dumbledore. The other death eaters had retreated to whatever scant cover they could find.

And then a spell, bloody, dark red; zoomed straight into Harry's neck.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

So I know that this chapter is pitifully short, but I love cliffhangers and I couldn't resist leaving this at that point.

Reviews are welcome; I want to know what people think of my writing style in particular.

-Ivycloak-


	2. Pure Pain

I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

Harry wanted to scream, but his jaw and his vocal cords were frozen along with the rest of him. So his scream went unvoiced, trapped inside him, waiting to burst out as soon as he could move.

The reason he wanted to scream?

His neck felt like someone had poured molten metal down his throat. The air that he inhaled was heated, as if his neck really was burning. He couldn't swallow, he couldn't gasp for extra air. He couldn't even scream, or moan. He was left, silent, unmoving, leaning against the wall.

A tear traced its way down his cheek, followed by many, many more.

Bellatrix had finally finished her victory madness. She was panting in the middle of the room, still grinning like a maniac. The other death eaters cautiously crept from their hiding spaces, eyeing Bellatrix, wary that she might start flinging jinxes again. She didn't.

Now that the room was silent from Bellatrix's insane celebrations, they could hear the sounds of a battle coming from the stairs up to the tower. Snape growled in annoyance.

"Now look what's happened. Our escape route is blocked, because of your madness, Bellatrix!" Snape, the traitor, snapped.

Harry paid all this no mind; his neck was in agony. Jumbled words raced through his mind. _Hurts__…oh, it hurts. Dead…Dumbledore…death…murdered…bellatrix…Sirius…PA IN! Snape…traitor…malfoy…kill…my neck…uuuhh…can't breathe…_

He blearily noticed the triumphant death eaters leaving through the door. He heard the solid _thunk_ as the door closed, but when it had been open the sounds of a fight reached his ears clearly. He could only hope that the fighting would end soon and someone would find him up here. Then he remembered…the invisibility cloak. No one would know he was there. No one would find him, and he would be left here to die from the horrible, burning, pain in his throat.

He panicked.

He wasn't quite sure what happened, but suddenly his invisibility cloak went flying across the room and he crumpled to the ground, released from the body-binding spell. Instantly his hands flew to his neck and he screamed.

It didn't sound natural.

Instead it was harsh, cracked; the auditory version of muggle television static. But it was so much more frightening. It was accompanied by wet gurgling sounds, and Harry coughed weakly.

Blood came out of his mouth.

This couldn't be good, Harry thought as he screamed again, unable to help it. It pained him even more, but maybe someone would hear and he would be taken to Madam Pomfrey, and she would fix him and make this terribly excruciating pain leave…

The last thing Harry was conscious of before he passed out was the door slamming open, rebounding off the wall with the force used to open it. Harry never even saw who entered.


	3. Permanent Damage

**A.N. **Some may be confused about the beginning of this fic. Dumbledore had cast a Body-Binding spell at Harry when he heard the Death Eaters arriving and covered Harry with the invisibility cloak. Harry had fallen against the wall, so he was propped on an angle. Dumbledore's reason for this was to prevent Harry from interfering when Snape killed Dumbledore. That is slightly different from the book and drastically different from the movie, so I thought I should explain that.

* * *

I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, Ginny would be dead.

"I do not know, Poppy. As I said, Fillius found him at the top of the Astronomy tower, sprawled on the floor. You saw what…what his neck looked like." Minerva McGonagall swallowed as she remembered seeing Harry being levitated into the infirmary by little Professor Flitwick. His neck had been…oozing…blood. And when she had dared to touch it, it had felt as if it were burning.

"There were also marks all over the walls, made by curses. He must have been the object of them." Flitwick said, his squeaky voice much more solemn than what his colleagues were accustomed to hearing.

"But what was he doing up the tower? And why did the Death Eaters attack? _How_ did they attack?" fretted Madam Pomfrey as she moved around Harry, frantically casting spells and transferring potions directly into his stomach. She had managed to stop the heat coming from Harry's throat, but it was still oozing blood.

"We don't know, Poppy. How the death eaters got into the castle is a mystery. The only reason I can think of that could be the cause for their attack is the disappearance of Albus. No one has seen him since he left the castle with Harry last night." McGonagall replied. She was wringing her hands in worry; over her critically injured student, other less serious injuries sustained in the sudden attack, and the absence of the headmaster. And if the death eaters had found a way in, didn't that mean that Hogwarts was no longer safe? They could always come back in the way they came last night.

"Harry probably knows what happened. He was the last person to see Albus, so he can tell us where he is." Flitwick pointed out.

"That is if Mr. Potter recovers. I am only just beginning to understand the nature of the damage done to his neck, but it is nasty. I don't know what curse hit him, and we don't know how long he was up in the astronomy tower with his wound getting worse.

"Even if he recovers, there will be lasting damage that will never heal." Madame Pomfrey informed them gravely.

"What kind of damage, Poppy?" McGonagall asked. Her hands had increased their speed.

"His condition is stable for now. I've stopped that bleeding...I've never seen anything like that before. I don't know what that curse was, but it had to be extremely dark. I'm afraid that whatever that curse specifically does, it somehow burned the inside of his throat. His trachea had small holes in it, which I was able to repair for the most part, and the burn damage got extremely close to his neck vertebrae. Thankfully, his spinal chord was not damaged in any way, but what I'm really worried about are his vocal chords. When he wakes up, he will not be able to speak. I've done all I can, but the damage to his vocal chords was the most severe of all. They were literally burned away...I...I cannot re-grow them." Madam Pomfrey bowed her head, feeling so sorry for the boy. She wished that she could have done more...if only they had found him sooner!

Silence reigned in the infirmary. McGonagall and Flitwick were just beginning to comprehend the implications of Harry's wound, and any other patient was resting, recovering from their own injuries.

"He's going to need help." McGonagall finally said. "I'll inform Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger of his condition. They can help him cope, and I'm sure Miss Granger will go straight to the library, searching for ideas to help Mr. Potter."

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "That will be good. He's going to need all the support he can get."

* * *

Professor McGonagall swept through corridors towards Gryffindor Tower, where all the Gryffindors had been sent after the attack. She was on her way to inform them of what had happened, and to tell Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger of the injuries sustained by their best friend.

McGonagall was dreading that conversation.

The Fat Lady opened the portrait for McGonagall as soon as the Deputy Headmistress reached it. She was a teacher; she had free access to any of the common rooms.

The hubbub of the common room instantly abated once McGonagall stepped through the portrait-hole. Slowly they made their way closer to her, sensing that they were about to get an explanation for the attack.

McGonagall took a deep breath, collected her thoughts, and began.

"Last night a group of Death Eaters broke into Hogwarts. We don't know how they got in, but, however they did it, they seemed to have done it on the seventh floor. This is where the Death Eaters seemed to have originated from.

"We don't know why they came, either. The attacking party was too small to have been an attempt to take the castle; it seemed to be more of a strike team. One thing we are concerned about is the apparent absence of Headmaster Dumbledore. A search of the castle grounds is being organized as I speak. He had left the castle last night with Mr. Potter for an undisclosed purpose."

"Where is Harry?" Ronald Weasley asked.

"He is currently in the infirmary, due to mysteriously sustained wounds. Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, you may visit him after I have finished.

"As I was saying, Mr. Potter is unable to currently tell us what exactly happened. He is unconscious and recovering from serious wounds." McGonagall continued.

As soon as she said the words "serious wounds," the common room erupted in worried voices.

"What is wrong with him?"

"How serious?"

"Is he alright?"

"When will he be back?"

"Calm yourselves. Mr. Potter's condition is stable, and he is expected to recover. I do not, however, know when he will be released from the hospital wing." McGonagall said.

"Since the attack has ended, all are allowed out of the tower again. But please use caution, and stay together in groups. All students will stay out of the hospital wing unless given permission to visit a friend or have a serious injury. Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, I need to speak to you two. Please follow me." With that the professer turned back to the portrait hole and stepped through, Potter's friends behind her.

She led them towards the Hospital Wing, speaking as she walked.

"Is this about Harry, Professor? What happened to him?" Miss Granger asked, struggling to keep up with her head-of-house's quick strides.

"Miss Granger, we do not know what exactly happened. He had left with the Headmaster on a trip that no one seems to know the purpose of. No one saw them leave or return, although the Headmaster had told the staff that he would be leaving that afternoon with Mr. Potter. When the Death Eaters attacked a few had gone straight to the Astronomy tower. I followed them but was delayed by the fighting. Professor Flitwick got there, however. When he arrived, no one was there except for Harry, who was collapsed on the floor with blood all over...I'll not go into detail. His invisibility cloak was laying beside him and he still had his wand in his pocket."

"That means that he either didn't know he was being attacked or...he couldn't fight back. Something prevented him from getting his wand out." Miss Granger, insightful as always, said.

"Correct, Miss Granger. Professor Flitwick levitated Harry to the Hospital Wing, as the fighting had mostly ended. As I said in the common room, he is stable for now, but there is permanent damage. As far as I know, he is still unconscious." By now they had reached the infirmary doors.

"I suggest you prepare yourselves. There are more serious injuries being treated here now than you are used to." McGonagall warned, and then she opened the doors.

* * *

Hermione was walking in a trance. She was worried sick about Harry, whose injuries McGonagall still had not explained. What had happened to him? Where had he gone with the Headmaster? What was wrong with him? McGonagall had briefly mentioned "permanent damage." What kind of permanent damage?

The Hospital wing was filled with injured students. Most seemed to be recovering relatively well, but a few were unconscious with bloody bandages wrapped around various body parts, or with casts or braces supporting their limbs. A few, Hermione didn't even want to think about.

Ron spotted Harry first, and raced to his friend's bedside. Hermione followed quickly and stopped short beside Ron.

Harry was still unconscious. His neck was obviously the place where he had been injured, for it was secured in a hard brace and the edges of bloody bandages peeked from underneath the plastic.

McGonagall came up behind them.

"As you can see, the serious injury is on his neck. He appears to have been hit by an unknown curse which literally burned the inside of his throat. His trachea had holes in it, which were repaired by Madam Pomfrey. His esophagus was also severely burned, but that was also repaired without trouble."

"What is the 'permanent damage'?" Ron asked, his voice subtly trembling. So Hermione wasn't the only one to have noticed those words.

"I'm afraid that his vocal chords were completely burned away. He will not be able to speak, when he wakes." McGonagall informed them, sadly.

Both Hermione and Ron froze. _What? Harry, a mute? That just isn't possible...but...that is what_ _McGonagall says...I'll have to go to the library and get out books on sign language._

McGonagall conjured two chairs and quietly retreated, leaving the two teens with their unconscious friend.


	4. Silent Horror

If I owned Harry Potter I would be able to send my brother to England. Since I cannot, I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

Harry came to awareness slowly. The first thing he became aware of were sounds; quiet ones. Soft murmurs, potion vials clinking together, a chair scraping against the floor. Then his nose registered the smells of fresh linen, various potions, and, more subtly, blood.

When Harry realized what that last smell was, his eyes flew open and his breath hitched in his chest.

It took him only a few seconds to realize where he was and that he was safe. He quickly identified the rows of cots with freshly washed, white linens, and the potions cupboard against the wall. The Hospital Wing. Of course, that would be where he was. But there was something different this time.

Usually when Harry was in the infirmary he was alone. Sometimes, there were just one or two other students in the wing. But now, many of the cots were occupied by other students. Most of them were small; first years or second years. A few older students were also around. The sight of the filled beds reminded Harry of his most recent memories.

Dumbledore...the headmaster was dead...had been murdered. Harry closed his eyes and pressed himself into his pillow, somehow hoping that the pressure on his head would smother the memory.

That was when he felt the neck brace.

Harry cautiously reached up and felt the hard, cold plastic around his neck, and remembered Bellatrix's curse, and the resulting agony.

Suddenly he wanted to know where Madam Pomfrey was. What curse had hit him? Just how much damage had it done, in order to put him in a brace?

He tried to moan, but he didn't hear a sound, didn't even feel the vibrations in his neck. All that came out was a sort of heavy sigh. And suddenly his throat was stinging like a swarm of bees had attacked.

"Madam Pomfrey?" Harry tried to ask, but again, the only thing he managed to produce was a raspy, unsteady breath. And it made his throat sting even more.

At that point, he panicked.

He bolted upright and stared around wildly, trying to locate Madam Pomfrey. Several patients nearby jumped at his sudden movement, and he looked at them all, recognizing a few. He started to calm a bit. Something was definitely wrong, and strange, but he wasn't in any danger.

Neville Longbottom was sitting on a cot next to Harry, and had been reading what looked like a book on Herbology. His ankle was in a splint, and a bottle of skele-grow rested on the nightstand beside him.

"Oh Harry, you're awake at last!" Neville said.

Harry grabbed his glasses from his own bedside table and placed them on his nose.

"Why..." Harry began, and again, his mouth moved, his tongue moved, but there were no vibrations in his throat and the only thing that came out his mouth was a light breath.

Neville stared a second, then shook himself. "Madam Pomfrey told me to tell you not to try to talk. Ron and Hermione would be with you..." he gestured to two chairs that were beside Harry's cot, "..but it is dinnertime right now and they needed to eat. They've been skipping lunch everyday, you know."

Harry nodded. He wanted to see Madam Pomfrey and have her tell him that he was all right, to reassure him that this strange inability to speak was only temporary. He looked around, trying to find the medi-witch.

Neville seemed to understand.

"Madam Pomfrey!" He called. "Harry's awake!" Harry shot Neville a grateful glance. A few seconds later Madam Pomfrey appeared, carrying a roll of parchment and a quill with ink. She set these items on Harry's table and then turned to him.

"Now, Mr. Potter, I want you to answer my questions by writing the answers on the parchment. First, how are you feeling? Any pain, itchiness?"

Harry took the parchment and dipped the quill in the ink. _My throat is stinging really bad. And the brace is itching._

"That, I expected. Have you tried to speak?"

"I think he did, Madam Pomfrey, but he didn't actually say anything. It sounded more as if he was breathing strangely. Uneven and too forcefully." Neville spoke up. Harry nodded, a worried look in his eyes.

This news seemed to sadden the medi-witch, because she covered her face with a hand. She took a deep breath and revealed her face again.

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry. I really don't know how to tell you this." Harry felt dread growing in the pit of his stomach. This was bad, he could feel it in the air. He had felt something wrong when he tried to speak, but it wasn't until now he realized what, exactly, was off.

"Harry, your vocal chords are gone. They were burned away by that spell you were hit with. Your trachea, larynx, and esophagus were in bad shape, too, but I managed to repair those. But you vocal chords, they just weren't there, there was no way I could repair it...

"Harry, I'm afraid that you are now a mute."

Harry just stared at her, wide-eyed. He had realized that his vocal chords hadn't been working just as she told him the horrible, unbelievable news. That was why he couldn't feel the normal vibrations in his neck. That was why he wasn't able to produce a single sound, not even a moan. He had been effectively silenced, forever.

Neville, the only other being in hearing distance, stared at Harry, horror-stricken. Harry slowly met Neville's eyes and saw his own disbelief reflected in the other boy's face.

"What is he going to do, Madam Pomfrey?" Neville asked, still staring at Harry. "How will he perform spells?" In that moment, despair flooded over Harry and he rested his head in his hands. _How am I going to talk with Ron and Hermione? How will I talk with anyone? I can't carry a parchment scroll with a quill and ink everywhere I go. I can't write on parchment without a table anyway. Unless I'm at a table I won't be able to communicate at all. And Neville has a point. How can I be a wizard, let alone defeat Voldemort, if I can't cast a single spell? I can't even ask my own questions about all this! Neville has been the one doing that._

He felt a gentle hand rest on his shoulder, and he looked up into the pained face of Madam Pomfrey. She had tears leaking from her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, dear. Please believe me when I say that I did everything I could." Harry nodded dismally. He knew that it wasn't the medi-witch's fault. The blame lay solely on Bellatrix, that evil, maniacal, insane woman. She had been responsible for Sirius's death, and that alone was more than enough to make Harry hate her with a passion. But now she had robbed him of his voice, and his hatred had doubled.

"As for spell casting, dear, I expect that you will be behind your peers for a while. You will have to use silent casting. Many witches and wizards can do at least a few silent spells, and you are powerful. With practice, I expect you won't encounter any limitations in your magical career." Madam Pomfrey continued, trying to sound encouraging. Harry again nodded, but this time not as dejectedly. He hadn't thought of silent spell casting, but he should have, he realized. It was a very simple solution. True, he would need a lot of practice, but he would do it.

"We'll talk...um...oh never mind, you are going to have to get used to people saying things like that. We will talk about this later, but for right now I need to look at your neck. When Fillius found you, it was oozing blood and burning hot." Harry nodded, actually feeling encouraged by Madam Pomfrey's blunt statement about people saying the word, "talk." It would be easier to cope with this if people didn't tip-toe around him. Besides, if they tried to alter the way they referred to communication when referring to Harry, wouldn't it just remind him more, and make him feel more different? He'd have to write...tell Ron and Hermione that.

The medi-witch removed the brace from around his neck and then unwound several yellowed bandages. Harry pointed at the yellow at frowned at Pomfrey, hoping she'd understand what he was asking. _What is the yellow from?_

She did understand. "Sweat, Mr. Potter. Your neck was literally burning up when you got in here and after that was under control, you proceeded to have multiple nightmares." Harry tapped the watch on Pomfrey's wrist and shot her a questioning look.

"You've been unconscious for three days, Mr. Potter."

Harry widened his eyes and gestured around the room, at the injured students still in beds.

"The ones left in here were the more serious injuries. There were more, Mr. Potter, there were more.

"It looks as if you can leave. Nothing is medically wrong now. Your throat will cease to be sore in a day or two. Until then try to stick to soft foods, and nothing hot. That would irritate you terribly, I think. Professor McGonagall will want to speak to you, but I'll tell her to let you alone for a few hours, at least. I think you will want to see your friends, correct?"

Harry was about to agree, but then remembered the indirect reason he was now mute. He grabbed the parchment and quill and started to write furiously.

_I need to tell Professor McGonagall about the attack. I'm the only one who saw who killed Professor Dumbledore. _Madam Pomfrey read over the words and her eyes widened in horror.

"And I had thought that news of the attack couldn't get any worse..." She trailed off and pinned Harry under her stare.

Harry wrote more. _You didn't know?_

Madam Pomfrey shook her head grimly.

"I see that you do need to speak to Professor...Headmistress McGonagall. We need the entire story, so I suggest you write it all down on that parchment there. I'll tell Minerva what you just told me, and in one hour I'll send her for you. That should give you time to get the entire story down on parchment. In the meantime you can leave the infirmary. Go be with your friends, but make sure that in one hour you've written what you know." Harry nodded and hopped down from the cot.

"You should probably also know that your friends have been informed of your injuries." Madam Pomfrey said. Harry nodded to her, then to Neville by way of goodbye. He grabbed his wand from the table and jammed it into his pocket, gathered the parchment into a neat scroll, and made his way out of the hospital wing. He had no idea how the wizarding world would react to the mute-boy-who-lived.


	5. News Break

If I owned Harry Potter I wouldn't have to worry about going to College, but I do, so therefore I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

Harry made his way towards the Gryffindor Tower, trying to avoid as many people as possible. He used whatever secret passages he knew, but there were inevitable times when someone would greet him. At that point he simply nodded and kept walking, feeling curious stares at his back.

He was a little surprised at his own reaction to being mute. He would have thought that he would become hysterically upset, of have a temper tanrum, or perhaps a large burst of accidental magic. But...he hadn't reacted like that at all. Maybe the full import of his predicament hadn't hit him yet?

Dinner in the Great Hall had apparently just finished, because there was a group of Gryffindors squeezing through the portrait hole as Harry arrived. He stayed at the back of the crowd, trying to avoid notice. But he couldn't get too far away, he realized. He had to squeeze into the common room after whoever was last. He couldn't say the password.

This new realization brought on a fresh wave of depression, but Harry hastily pushed it back. He needed to find Ron and Hermione. If he was lucky and kept his head down maybe he could find them before the others noticed his presence.

Harry slipped through the portrait hole right after Lavender Brown. The common room was filled with the usual noise of students studying, talking, and playing games. Hearing the noise, and realizing he couldn't be part of that anymore, made Harry pause in the entrance to the common room instead of his original plan to slip quickly up to the dorm.

Within a second, Dean Thomas noticed his presence.

"Harry! You're back! What was wrong with you, mate? No one would tell us!" Everyone stood and looked at Harry, who stood frozen, already beginning to panic.

Everyone was asking him questions he couldn't answer. He needed to find Hermione and Ron; they knew what had happened to him, they could explain to everyone why he wasn't speaking. But his friends were nowhere in sight.

People were beginning to wonder why Harry was so quiet, and appeared so terrified. The loud questions settled down, to be replaced with muttering and suspicious glances. Harry was about to turn and run when the portrait hole opened behind him and Neville came through, limping but otherwise fine. His ankle had apparently healed.

Harry sagged with relief and turned to Neville, who had paused to examine the mood of the room.

Harry gestured around the room, then pointed to Neville and then himself. Neville nodded, while Seamus asked, "What are you doing, Harry? Why won't you talk?"

Neville and Harry looked at each other and both took a deep breath.

"Harry can't speak." Neville said bluntly. The room was suddenly silent. "That was why he was in the infirmary. He was hit with some sort of curse that burned away his vocal chords. The damage was irreparable, so...Harry is now mute." Everyone's stares shifted from Neville to Harry, all eyes filled with disbelief. Harry nodded confirmation of Neville's words.

"You...you can't talk, Harry?" Ginny asked from behind. She had come into the common room just as Neville explained Harry's silence. Harry turned and shook his head sadly.

Ginny burst into tears and threw herself at Harry, wrapping her arms around him and crying into his shoulder. Harry patted her back a little awkwardly. Shouldn't she be the one comforting him, he wondered?

She pulled away after a few seconds and wiped her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'll bet you want to see Ron and Hermione. Do they know?" she asked. Again, Harry nodded.

"Come on, I think they are in the library. I'll come with you, if that is alright?" Harry smiled and together, they left the common room filled with staring students behind.

* * *

Harry's arrival at the library went much smoother than his entrance to the common room. Everyone was busy studying, bent over books, and no one looked up. Ginny and Harry skirted around whatever students they saw, not wanting to have to deal with another uncomfortable explanation.

Harry spotted Ron and Hermione first.

"There they..." Harry began, forgetting that he no longer made a sound. Ginny looked at him sympathetically, having seen his mouth move and heard his suddenly erratic breaths. She placed her hand on his shoulder to comfort him. Drawing himself up, he pointed to where his friends were at a library table and led the way to them.

Ron looked up and saw them first.

"Harry!" he exclaimed. He leapt to his feet and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "You're out! We were wondering when Madam Pomfrey would release you. We were about to head up to the Hospital Wing to visit you again, but I guess we don't need to now, after all." Despite himself, Harry grinned and returned Ron's shoulder-clap.

"I'm so glad you're awake, Harry." Hermione said, standing and giving him a hug. "I was beginning to wonder if there was something else that had gone wrong. You've been out for three days, you know."

Harry nodded. Madam Pomfrey had told him in response to his pantomimed question, he remembered.

He wondered if they would bring up his disability. After all, he wouldn't be able to mention it.

"How has it been, Harry?" Hermione asked quietly. He shrugged and motioned to Ginny, who took the cue.

"Neville had to explain everything in the common room. I think everyone had been bombarding Harry with questions and he was beginning to panic." Ginny said, and Harry nodded.

"How did Neville find out?" Ron asked.

"In the Hospital Wing, obviously. Ron, use a little logic. Neville was in for his ankle. If he was nearby Harry when Madam Pomfrey told him about...well, he would know, wouldn't he?" Hermione reasoned. Again, Harry nodded. He was beginning to feel a little stupid, doing all this nodding. He sat down at the table and unrolled his parchment.

_Hermione's right. I woke up during dinner. Sort of panicked at first when I realized I couldn't talk, but I didn't know then that it was permanent. When Pomfrey told me that I sort of just got a bit depressed._

"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry we weren't there when she told you." Hermione said.

_That's alright, you need to eat. Neville said that you had been sitting with me and skipping lunches._

"Yeah, we did. But Hermione made us look at books on sign language while we were there. She's already learning the advanced signs!" Ron commented, a tinge of disbelief in his voice.

"Harry, you need to get started on learning Sign Language right away. Ron has promised to do it, and I'm planning on asking the rest of the Gryffindor sixth-years to do it as well..." Hermione started, but Harry cut her off with a hand-motion.

_I'm not staying for a seventh year._

"Harry, you can't let this discourage you. You need to continue your education." Hermione said.

_It's not that. Dumbledore told me how Voldemort survived, and left me with a mission._

"But, Harry, Dumbledore is missing, along with Snape and Malfoy." Ginny said, confused.

_He isn't missing, he is dead. Snape killed him, and ran off with Malfoy and the rest of their Death Eater pals. His body fell over the edge of the Astronomy Tower._

No one said anything.

_I have to write what I saw so that the staff knows what happened. I am one of the witnesses to his murder; only I and several Death Eaters saw what happened._

"Is that how you got injured? The Death Eaters found you spying?" Ron asked hoarsely.

_No, I was under the Invisibility Cloak, and under Petrificus Totalus. Wait, instead of writing it all piecemeal let me just write this down for McGonagall. You can read as I write._

His friends nodded, so Harry proceeded to write down everything he remembered about that night, starting from when he and Dumbledore had arrived back at Hogwarts and ending when he fell unconscious. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny read along as he wrote, occasionally making comments or muttering to themselves. He finished just in time; not a minute had passed from when he wrote the last letter to when McGonagall arrived, accompanied by the other two Heads of Houses. No one said a word. Harry merely handed over his parchment and watching as the teachers read his story, their faces grim.

After a minute, McGonagall looked up.

"Thank you, Harry. Is there any chance you could tell us what you were doing with Professor Dumbledore?"

Harry shook his head. He couldn't share the secret of Voldemort's immortality; if Voldemort got wind that his horecruxes had been discovered Harry's mission would become even harder.

The horecrux. Slytherin's locket.

It was with Dumbledore, at the base of the Astronomy tower. Harry had to get it before it was confiscated as Dumbledore's property and it disappeared into some vault at the Ministry. Harry's eyes widened and he stood quickly.

"Harry, what is wrong?" Ginny asked.

He took the parchment back from McGonagall and scrawled hurriedly:

_Secret, with Dumbledore. Have to get it. _He left the parchment on the table, his friends reading his message, as he ran out the library, through the Entrance Hall and the courtyard, all around the castle, until he reached the Astronomy Tower.

And Dumbledore's body.


	6. Not So Alone

I do not own Harry Potter.

...

Harry could only stare when he saw Dumbledore's body. Obviously it smelled from being left outside for days, but decay had not yet set in. In fact, if it had not been for the awkward angles that Dumbledore's limbs lay at, Harry would have thought that the headmaster had simply fallen asleep during an afternoon stroll. Harry had been unrealistically hoping that Dumbledore would still be alive; that somehow, the old man had survived the killing curse and saved himself from the fall from the Astronomy Tower. But the proof of the man's death lay in front of Harry; horrifying yet undeniable.

Harry wondered, why had he survived the killing curse as a helpless baby, and had become famous for it, when he had done nothing? His survival had nothing to do with his own power or skill and yet here he was. Useless.

But Dumbledore had been the greatest wizard of the age, perhaps of all time. His power had been immeasurable; his knowledge unsurpassable. His wisdom abundant; his kindness and caring unforgettable. He had been Voldemort's greatest enemy, the only wizard that the dark lord had ever feared. So why had this great man been murdered? And by a simple spy, not even Voldemort himself?

Voices snapped Harry out of his reverie. His friends and McGonagall were coming around the castle, calling his name. _Silly, _he thought. _It isn't as if I can answer them anymore. _

Realizing that his time was short, Harry stooped and removed Slytherin's locket from around Dumbledore's neck, then tucked the horcrux into his pocket. He was just in time to hide the thing; at that moment the others came around the corner of the castle.

They paused for a moment, realizing what they were seeing. Then all of them rushed forward to Harry and Dumbledore's body.

Hermione clasped a hand over her mouth, and Harry heard a choked sob escape her mouth. She had tears leaking from the corners of her eyes; she couldn't tear them away from Dumbledore's body. The rest of the group simply stared in horror.

"Albus..." McGonagall whispered. "Pomona, Fillius...we'd better get him inside." McGonagall tore her eyes away from the body and turned to Harry. Her voice returned to its crisp, commanding tone.

"You have gotten what you wanted, I presume, Mr. Potter?" Harry nodded, his hand moving slightly towards his pocket. Then he turned to Hermione, who was still silently weeping, and hesitantly placed his arm over her shoulders. She let out an audible sob and turned to bury her head in his chest.

Harry was now dumbfounded. What should he do?

He looked to Ron, who was still staring at Dumbledore. He would be no help.

Harry cautiously wrapped Hermione in his arms and held her against him. Even though it felt strange, Harry also thought it was strangely pleasant. It would be even nicer if Hermione was happy instead of sobbing.

McGonagall and the other heads of houses had levitated Dumbledore and were now directing his body towards the front of the castle. While this was going on, Ron had noticed Harry and Hermione and had shifted his stare from Dumbledore to his two friends. He looked Harry in the eyes, looking as dumbfounded as Harry felt.

"How did that happen?" Ron asked. Harry widened his eyes and shook his head slightly. _I don't really know, _he hoped his expression said.

Hermione eventually pulled herself together and moved away from Harry, wiping her eyes.

"What was all that about?" Ron asked. Hermione shook her head, a blush on her cheeks, and Harry shrugged.

They were silent for a few seconds.

"What is it Harry? Your 'secret'?" Hermione finally asked. Harry pulled the locket out of his pocket, and Hermione and Ron crowded 'round.

"A locket? What is so special about that?" Ron asked.

"It isn't just any locket, Ron. Look at that crest, seemingly inside the crystal. It is the seal of Salazar Slytherin, Ron. This locket is a precious antique. But...why is it so secret, Harry? Why did Dumbledore want to get it, and bring you along?" Hermione said. Harry just shook his head and made a writing motion with a hand. _Paper. _

"Does it open?" Ron asked, suddenly a lot more interested. Harry fiddled with the catch on the side of the locket until it popped open. Harry had expected it to be empty, but a slip of folded parchment fell out. He frowned, picked the parchment up and unfolded it.

Suddenly he crumpled the paper up and threw it to the ground, burying his head in a hand. Dumbledore had died because of his determination to find this, a supposed horcrux. Harry had become mute in the aftermath. And now he found out that it was a _fake_. All the suffering had been caused for _nothing_.

Hermione wordlessly picked up the crumpled scrap of parchment and smoothed it out.

"Who is 'R.A.B,' Harry? Do you know?" Hermione asked. Harry shook his head, and then pointed to the castle. He needed to explain everything to his friends, but he couldn't do it without writing materials. He really did need to learn sign language.

He led the way to the entrance hall. No one was around; McGonagall must have placed a disillusionment charm on Dumbledore's body so that no one panicked. There was bound to be a meeting called in the Great Hall soon, however. The students would be told that the headmaster was dead, Snape had been a traitor, and Draco Malfoy was a death eater. There would probably also be an official announcement that Harry was now mute, even though word must have spread around the castle by now. Harry couldn't imagine Lavender Brown or Parvati Patil keeping such unbelievable news to themselves. He would probably be set upon by slytherins at any moment, all of them taunting him because he couldn't taunt back. Harry closed his eyes as another wave of sudden depression hit him. Why had it happened? Why?

They went to the gryffindor Common room, and Ron spoke the password, "unity." Another thing Harry was now unable to do. Enter his own dormitory.

Everyone stared at Harry as he made his way, with Ron and Hermione, over to their favorite corner table. Hermione dashed up to her dorm to get some parchment and a quill with ink for Harry, while Harry chose a chair cloaked in the most shadow. Ron sat across from him, blocking him from the view of a lot of their housemates. Harry nodded his thanks, and then yawned, soundlessly. He was tired, emotionally and mentally. Physically, he felt alright, though his throat was sore and raw. After he wrote down the information about the horcruxes, he was going to go to bed. He needed to escape into unconsciousness, because while he was in his dreams he could pretend that tomorrow morning he would wake up and the pain in his throat would be gone, and he could yawn loudly, and moan and groan about homework all he wanted.

Hermione came back down and put her supplies on the table. She and Ron both came next to Harry and watched as he wrote about the horcruxes, how Dumbledore had destroyed one but in the process lost the use of his arm, how the two of them had gone to retrieve Slytherin's locket, how Dumbledore had drunk the liquid in the basin resulting in his weakness, and finally, how they had arrived at the Astronomy tower. He finished by writing, "_And I've already explained what happened next._"

"Wow." Was all Hermione said.

"So that is how You-Know-Who stayed alive? Parts of his soul were floating around without a body?" Ron said.

"Ron, don't be silly, they weren't floating; they were anchored to objects." Hermione pointed out, ever the perfectionist.

"So, why did Dumbledore tell you all this?" Ron asked.

"_He must have somehow known that he was about to die, because he told me that I needed to find all of the horcruxes and destroy them. Only then can Voldemort be killed."_

"So this is why you aren't coming back for seventh year. Dumbledore died and left you with a mission." Hermione stated.

Harry nodded, thinking about it all. Dumbledore had indeed died and left a disabled Harry with the burden of destroying Voldemort. Of course, Harry had not been mute at the moment Dumbledore died, nor had Dumbledore known that Harry would be hit with Bellatrix's curse. But Harry still felt like Dumbledore had cheated him, in a way.

_I need to do some research on horcruxes before I leave. That is why I am not leaving immediately, and I will attend Dumbledore's funeral. But after that I am leaving. You two shouldn't come back, either. Without Dumbledore here, Voldemort will attempt to take Hogwarts._

"Good point Harry, but surely you know that we are going to come with you? We'd never let you do this by yourself." Hermione said. Harry scowled in response and shook his head vehemently. He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, his housemates watching the exchange. But right now, he didn't really care. Hermione and Ron couldn't come with him. His mission was dangerous; he couldn't put them in danger.

But Hermione seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.

"Harry, whether you like it or not, we are coming with you. We wouldn't let you do something like this on your own, and besides, you _need_ our help. You can''t stop us."

"She's right, mate. You're not doing this on your own. You tried this in fifth year and it didn't work. It won't work now, either."

Harry felt a twinge of worry for his friends, but the emotion he felt most prominently was happiness. His friends wouldn't abandon him, and he wasn't alone.

Suddenly, the future didn't seem so forbidding.


	7. Agonized Remembrances

I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't have to resort to babysitting to get money!

…

Harry had difficulty going to sleep that night. After his "conversation" with Ron and Hermione, he had informed them that he was tired and wanted to go up to the dorm. Ron had immediately said that he was going too; probably sensing Harry's need to get away from the stares of their housemates. Hermione had said that she needed to study, even though exams had already passed. So Ron and Harry had left her to it and trudged up the stairs to the boys' sixth year dorm.

As Harry had suspected, just a minute after he and Ron had entered, Dean and Seamus came in.

"So, Harry...this isn't some sort of joke? It's really true, what Neville said?" Seamus asked hesitantly. Harry rolled his eyes, though Seamus couldn't see since Harry was getting his pajamas out of his trunk and had his back turned. They'd seen him communicating with Ron and Hermione in the common room; they hadn't heard him say a word since before he left with Dumbledore, and they were asking if this was all real? Didn't Seamus have a single ounce of logic? Harry turned to regard his year mates. Seamus seemed to be sort of hesitantly, yet genuinely curious, and Dean seemed to not know what to say.

Both of them fidgeted under Harry's gaze, and Harry, just for the sake of it, decided to play a little game with them.

"No, everything is fine, of course." He "said". Of course, his lips moves correctly, but not a squeak emitted from his mouth. Seamus and Dean just stared, and Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to his trunk.

"Seamus, what do you think? He was writing to us just for the bloody sake of it?" Ron asked incredulously.

"I don't know it's just…really hard to believe." Dean answered. He seemed embarrassed and awkward. ___Try being me,_ Harry thought viciously. He pulled an old essay from his trunk and a quill with ink. He wrote, "___Look, I'm tired and I don't want to talk about it. Ron can tell you what happened if he wants to._"

Then he handed it to Seamus and grabbed his pajamas, preparing to head into the bathroom. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned. It was Dean.

"Look Harry, we didn't want to bother you. We really are sorry about it. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help right now." Dean's face was honest and genuinely sympathetic. Harry didn't particularly want sympathy right now, but he didn't want to argue either. He nodded and gestured to Seamus to give him the old essay.

He wrote one more message: ___Just please don't treat me any different from before. That would only make me feel worse._

Dean and Seamus read it and both nodded.

"Got it, Harry." Dean said. Harry flashed him a grateful smile before retreating to brush his teeth.

Harry lay in bed that night, thinking over just what had happened that day. So much unbelievable and depressing news had come to light today: Harry's permanent silence, Dumbledore's murder, Severus Snape's betrayal…it was all too much to think on at once. He tried to banish all thought from his mind, so that maybe he would fall asleep. He didn't want to think about ___anything_.

…

___Harry was in the Astronomy tower, watching as Snape cast the killing curse at Dumbledore. _

___He wanted to scream, but the _petrificus totalus ___prevented him. _

___Bellatrix whirled, casting hexes in every direction in a sick dance of victory. _

___And then a curse hit him._

___He could feel it, burning and destroying. _

___Some part of him that realized this was a dream thought, _why isn't Ron waking me up like usual?

___And now the petrificus totalus wore off, and Harry collapsed to the ground. The invisibility cloak lay next to him._

___The death eaters saw him._

___And, seeing his pain, decided to add to it._

___Bellatrix taunted as she hurled spells at him, _"Where is the old man now, Potter? Is he dead? Just like dear old ___Sirius_?"

___And Harry just screamed louder, because the pain was terrible, and remembering was agony in itself._

_…_

Ron sat up in bed, wondering what had woken him. He glanced at the clock: it was two in the morning. He rubbed his eyes sleepily and was about to settle back on his pillow, when he heard muffled sounds coming from Harry's bed.

And now, Ron realized why he had woken.

Harry was prone to terrible nightmares; Ron knew this better than anyone since he was usually the one to wake Harry during these times. It had somehow become a habit for Ron to wake in the middle of the night, wake a screaming and thrashing Harry from a nightmare, ask Harry if he was alright, and then fall back asleep.

Apparently it was so usual that Ron had awoken, even if Harry wasn't waking the entire gryffindor Tower.

But Harry was still having a nightmare.

Ron had only just remembered how Harry was now mute, and put the pieces quickly together.

Harry couldn't scream.

So even if he was having a nightmare, and unconsciously ___trying_ to scream, no sound would be made.

Ron leapt out of bed and dashed to Harry's side, and then started to shake his thrashing best friend by the shoulders.

_…_

___Now Harry had been thrown into a different dream._

___Around him, his friends from Dumbledore's Army were fighting the death eaters. _

___Harry was fighting, along with the rest of them._

___Trails of black smoke flew everywhere, indicating where the death eaters were apparating to._

___Now in flashes of white smoke, members of the Order of the Phoenix were appearing. _

___One of them was Sirius. _

___Harry remembered this now, he knew what happened. He didn't want to relive this memory!_

___But he was caught up in the dream, unable to wake._

___He watched as Sirius was slammed with his own cousin's, Bellatrix's, curse._

___Harry would always remember the look on Sirius's face when that fateful curse struck._

___And then his godfather tumbled back into the Veil of Souls, and was gone._

___Forever._

_…_

Ron finally resorted to shouting to rouse Harry. His friend was screaming, or at least trying to. If Harry hadn't been mute before, he certainly was now.

"Come on Harry! It's just a nightmare, wake up!" Ron shook Harry some more, but Harry's mouth only opened wider as if he were screaming harder. It was too eerie, Ron thought, to see all the motions of sound that Harry went through, only to have no sounds come out.

Harry had seriously creeped Seamus and Dean out earlier, when he had "said"…something. Ron hadn't been able to tell what Harry had mouthed, but Seamus and Dean had been quietly talking about it in spooked tones as soon as they realized that Harry was asleep. Neville had come in, and, noticing the mood of the room, had asked what had happened.

Seamus was all too happy to tell him.

It was a good thing Harry had missed all that, Ron thought, as he continued to attempt to shake Harry awake. It wasn't working, and now the others were beginning to get up to see what was going on.

"Dean, go get Professor McGonagall! Harry's having another nightmare, but he isn't waking up!"

_…_

___Harry's dream shifted yet again._

___Now he was in the graveyard outside the old Riddle Manor, in the very spot Cedric had been killed and Voldemort had risen to power once more._

___And Voldemort was there again, with a host of death eaters listening to what Harry thought was some sort of speech._

___No one noticed Harry, this time._

"___It has come to my attention that, on the same night as Dumbledore was _murdered___, another great victory had been won." Voldemort said, his voice nearly trembling with withheld glee._

"___Harry Potter was struck by a curse which literally burned away his ability to speak. Harry Potter, the 'Chosen One,' is now mute!""_

___The death eaters burst out into whoops of joy. A few even cast colored sparks into the air with their wands._

___Then Voldemort turned so that he now faced Harry._

"___Ah, and look at who has decided to join us at this momentous occasion. The subject of celebration himself!"_

___Then Bellatrix was in front of Harry, her wand in her hand. Harry pulled his own wand from his back pocket and kept it trained on her._

"___Oh, I don't think that will do you much good, little Potter." Bellatrix trilled, and then she cackled madly._

"Expelliarmus!___" She shouted._

"Protego!"___ Harry shouted in reaction. But his soundless words didn't have any effect, and his wand went flying from his hand._

"___What's the matter, Potter? Speechless?" Bellatrix taunted._

___Then Voldemort pushed her aside and pointed his own wand at Harry._

"Avada Kedavra!"

_…_

Ron was still trying to wake Harry, Neville and Seamus watching, as Dean rushed in followed by McGonagall.

"Let me near, Mr. Weasley." McGonagall said, and Ron moved away from Harry reluctantly.

"___Enervate!_" She said, her wand pointed at Harry. Harry jolted one more time, and then shot up, his eyes wide. His mouth had contorted to look as if he had shouted in fright.

Harry took in the people around his bed, a slightly panicked look still in his eyes. But he seemed to calm down as he recognized the people he knew.

"Are you alright, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked, concern in her tone.

"Yeah, I'm…" Harry began, but stopped, remembering the events of the previous day. Everyone was staring, so he just nodded instead.

"Are you sure?" McGonagall asked. Again, Harry nodded, but he looked away. He knew what he had been doing in his sleep now. He had probably been soundlessly screaming and thrashing; the usual, except, it must have been eerie to see him screaming, but not to hear it. And everyone in this room had witnessed his midnight fit.

McGonagall gave him one last concerned look before turning and exiting the dorm, her dressing robes swirling behind her. Harry slumped and held his head in his hands, tousling his hair. He felt like this series of nightmares was one of the worst things he'd ever experienced; aside from the cruciatus curse at the end of fourth year. He hadn''t actually had any physical pain, but the grief caused by simply remembering even one of those events…that had been raw, undistilled agony. And having to relive them, one after the other? It had matched the cruciatus, scream for scream.

Ron had taken hold of his shoulder.

"You really alright, Harry? It looked like you were under the cruciatus."

Harry slowly shook his head no.

"Did it hurt?" Ron asked. Harry shook his head, but then placed his hands over his heart and patted the place. Ron nodded, understanding flickering across his face.

"Which one?" his friends questioned further. Harry shook his head again, and then held up three fingers. Now Ron looked confused.

"But…I thought there were only two…"

Harry closed his eyes, shook his head, and then pointed to the seven on the clock face by his bed. Seven was the time that they usually woke for classes, so Harry's meaning was clear. ___I'll tell you about it in the morning._

Ron took a moment to peer at the clock, and get the meaning behind Harry's actions, before he nodded.

"Alright mate. I'll see you in the morning. Come one, mates, get back into bed." Ron shooed the others away and then made his way over to his own bed. Before he lay back to go to sleep, he took another glance at Harry. The other boy was already asleep.


	8. Unified Protection

I do not own Harry Potter.

...

When Harry woke the next morning, Ron was already up. Harry got ready to go down to the common room while listening to Ron talk about various things. He felt awkward, because usually he would comment on what Ron said and bring up his own topics. But today all he could do was nod in agreement, or make a face to express his opinion on something. He could tell that Ron was feeling awkward too. After all, who doesn't when talking to someone who doesn't talk back?

While they were getting ready the others woke up, one by one. Seamus gave Harry a strange look before heading into the bathroom, but Dean just said a friendly hello. Neville was pretty quiet, as usual, and just muttered good mornings to everyone.

When Harry and Ron were ready they went down to the common room. Hermione was there, waiting for them, and Ron immediately told her what had happened during the night. Hermione was very concerned, and the next thing Harry knew he was being pushed into a chair with a piece of parchment in front of him.

So, feeling like he had no choice, he wrote down what he had been dreaming about. He didn't include his own emotions; just what he had seen in his mind.

Hermione and Ron both read the scroll while Harry relaxed back into the chair, taking a look around the common room. Nearly everyone there was casting occasional glances at him. No doubt things would stay the same for a while, until people got used to Harry's new…situation.

His friends finished reading, and Harry took the parchment back, along with the quill and the ink. He would need them all during the day, so he stuffed them into his school-bag. When he looked up Ron and Hermione were giving him sympathetic looks, but they didn't say anything. So Harry led the way down to the Great Hall for the breakfast, though he no longer felt like eating.

As Harry had suspected, the rest of the school had heard the rumors about him, but no one seemed to know that Dumbledore was dead. The slytherins, lead by Pansy Parkinson, confronted Harry outside the Great Hall, to discover whether or not the rumors were true.

"What do you lot want?" Ron asked when he saw the green-clad group.

"We just wanted to…check…something." Pansy said, looking directly at Harry. Harry felt a blush reaching his cheeks. Everyone in the Entrance Hall had stopped to watch the confrontation. This was going to be the revealing to the rest of the school, the confirmation of the rumors. He had been hoping to leave it until McGonagall's announcement, but it seemed he wouldn't get even that.

Ron and Hermione both moved close to him, on either side. They knew that he hated this.

"I heard you were in the infirmary, Potter. What was that for? Did you get ___crucioed_ in the battle?" Pansy said, circling Harry and his friends like they were some sort of prey.

Ron and Hermione didn't say anything. All three of them had their hands in their pockets, ready to pull their wands. But, Harry realized now, that wouldn't do him any good. He couldn't say a spell.

"Maybe it was something more…simple. Seems that all that would be needed to take you down, Potter, would be a simple laughing jinx. And you of all people would certainly get care for anything that might bother you. Is that why you were in the infirmary for three days? You just couldn't stop laughing at your own ineptitude?"

"Stay out of it, Parkinson. I don't want to have to hex you." Hermione snapped.

"Ooh, how terrifying. The mudblood is attempting to be threatening!" Parkinson said to her housemates. They all laughed.

Hermione was now blushing too, but her wand was out. Harry saw Ron drawing his as well.

"Don't insult Hermione." Ron said, pointing his wand at Parkinson.

"Ah! And here is the blood traitor, the weasel."

Harry had a brilliant comeback for that, and he wished he could say it. He would spit out, ___Oh, and you're really brilliant Parkinson, using all of Malfoy's insults_, and then she wouldn't know what to say.

But…maybe he could make her speechless.

"Come on, Potter. Not going to defend your friends?" Parkinson wheedled. At that point Neville, Seamus and Dean came down and saw the situation. Hearing Parkinson's taunt and knowing that Harry couldn't reply, they crowded behind Harry, offering silent support.

But what they didn't know was that Harry did have a trick up his sleeve.

"___Actually, I am, right now. Shut Up._" Harry mouthed. That did it. Pansy and the rest of the slytherins hadn't expected him to do what he did. They had thought that he would either speak and discredit the rumors or stand by and remain silent. Ron had told him how his silent speech had affected Seamus and Dean, so Harry had just done the same thing here. What the Slytherins had failed to expect was to ___see_ him talking but not ___hear_ his words. They all stood still as statues, staring in shock at Harry.

Harry took hold of his two best friends' hands and led them, chin up, straight through the crowd of gawking slytherins into the Great Hall. He noticed Dean, Seamus, and Neville following.

They walked to the Gryffindor table and chose their usual spots. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were already sitting at the table, as were several other Gryffindors from other years. All of them stared as Harry took his seat with his friends, but then again, the entire Great Hall was staring. And, even though he didn't like it, Harry had to admit that he was used to being stared at.

"What did you actually say, Harry?" Dean asked. Harry was already getting out his writing supplies. The parchment set up really was inconvenient, but his friends waited patiently while he set it all up.

___"I said 'Actually I am, right now. Shut Up.'"_

All his friends laughed after reading what Harry had said to the slytherins. Harry took the time to serve himself some porridge, which he poured a hefty amount of syrup on. He started to eat with gusto, finally realizing how hungry he was. The heat of the porridge made his throat uncomfortably hot, but he ignored it.

"Oh, that's brilliant Harry! She followed you orders without even realizing it!" Ron hooted. Harry smirked.

"___I figured that I could shut them up as well as I've been."_

Hermione smiled, knowing that Harry needed to be able to make light of his situation in order to get past it. She nudged Ron, who was staring a little awestruck at Harry's parchment.

"___Look guys, please don't walk on tiptoes around me. I don't want anything to be different._ ___If I mention the fact that I am mute, don't gape at me. I need to accept it, so…that means I can't get depressed over it. Okay?_" Everyone nodded, including Ron and Hermione. ___"And if you could tell anyone else that, it would be greatly appreciated. I also sort of realized that I"_ Harry stopped writing for a minute. This was hard, admitting for the first time that he _needed_ help with something. But there was no way around it. His friends had to realize this too. "___…that I can't get into the common room by myself. Or defend myself if some stupid slytherin hexes me._" He refused to meet anyone's eyes as they read his message. Not even Ron or Hermione's.

"Don't worry, Harry. We aren't going to leave you by yourself. I'm sure McGonagall can figure something out for the common room, and as for magic, you are going to become the best silent wizard the world has ever seen." Hermione said. "I've already gotten books on British Sign Language checked out, and I've been thinking about how sign language might be used to cast spells. Not to mention that I've checked out books on silent magic and how to best accomplish it." Hermione rambled. Harry smiled, amused at the typical Hermione attitude: research the problem so you can fix it. He knew that she and Ron both cared for him and were going to help him conquer this.

"If you want I'll stick with you too, Harry." Neville said, a little uncertainly. Harry nodded, glad for Neville's support.

"All of us Gryffindors can. We'll make sure no dirty Slytherin gets you until you can ___stupefy_ them into next term." Dean said.

"How about it, Gryffindors? Are we going to protect Harry?" Dean's words echoed down the Gryffindor table, and Gryffindors started saying things like, "of course we will," and "who wouldn't?" One of the seventh years stood up. It was Angelina Johnson, from the quidditch team. She shouted down the table: "Harry's one of us! We need to help him. No Slytherin will touch him!" The Gryffindors cheered agreement, drawing the attention of the other houses.

Harry ducked his head in embarrassment. But he wasn't embarrassed that he needed protection. True, the fact chafed him, but he knew that it was true and he was going to try not to be stupid about it. He was embarrassed for the attention, but he was also happy that his house was so willing to help him out.

"Students! Students! Quiet please!" Headmistress McGonagall's voice rang out across the hall. Everyone was instantly quiet. Announcements were almost never made in the morning, but they usually weren't this serious, Harry recalled.

"More has come to light about the consequences of the attack four nights ago. There are two pieces of news, both of them grave. I shall give you the worst news first: Headmaster Dumbledore is dead, murdered by Severus Snape who was helped by Draco Malfoy."

The students were all dead silent, staring in shock at their new headmistress.

"There will be a funeral for Headmaster Dumbledore tomorrow evening, after dinner. I expect you all to be respectful, even if you did not agree with his opinions, or even liked him. Many will grieve for him. Please respect their grief.

"The second piece of news is of a more personal nature, and is about Mr. Potter. Many of you heard that Mr. Potter was in the infirmary for three days with a serious injury sustained in the attack. He woke yesterday at dinnertime, and it was confirmed by Madam Pomfrey that he is now mute. The details of the cause I leave for Mr. Potter to disclose to whom he wishes. Please treat him with the same respect that any student of Hogwarts deserves." At this, McGonagall resumed her seat at the staff table.

The Great Hall was now in an uproar. No one knew which piece of news to discuss first; Harry's muteness or Dumbledore's murder. Harry couldn't bear it any longer. He quickly packed up his writing tools and stood, motioning his friends to do the same. Most had already eaten, so Ron, Hermione, Neville, Dean, Seamus, Parvati, Lavender, Collin Creevey, and most of the seventh years crowded around Harry as he made his way out of the hall. The other houses watched them go, whispering at the unusual show of unity that the Gryffindors displayed.

Once they were out into the deserted Entrance Hall, Harry pulled his class schedule from his bag. He had Charms first. Brilliant. He wouldn't be able to participate in class. Honestly he had hoped for potions, so he could actually do something.

Harry showed his schedule to Ron and Hermione, pointing to Charms. Everyone else looked on, and those whose classes were in the same direction as the charms classroom formed a close knot around Harry. The others said their farewells and headed off to their own classes.

By now the other students were flooding out of the Great Hall, but, seeing that Harry was surrounded by protective Gryffindors, didn't try to come near him. As a matter of fact, they actually seemed to go out of their way to stay out of his group's path.

Harry made it to charms without incident. His house-mates chatted around him, and he just listened, content for the time being and encouraged by their support.

Charms wasn't as much fun as it usually was, at least for Harry. It was more intensive. Flitwick told him to simply practice the wand movements for the charm they were studying, so that is what he appeared to do. But inside his head he was attempting wordless magic, saying the incantation over and over, with force and concentration, in his head. He was so focused that he didn't even hear Flitwick dismiss the class, so Hermione had to notify him and help him pack up his things.

The next two periods were free, so, on Hermione's urging, they went to the library to study sign language and silent magic. Other Gryffindors who had the same period free accompanied them, intending to do their own homework while there.

So Madam Pince was agitated, to say the least, when a pack of fifteen Gryffindors of all ages flooded into the library as one, bringing along their noise. She nearly fainted, Harry was sure, but then she recovered and started to scold all of them.

"Why can't you trickle in quietly, one by one? What is wrong with that?" she asked, throwing her hands up in the air.

"I'm sorry, Madam Pince, but we're all together because we are protecting Harry." Said a first year who had not yet learned what a terror Madam Pince could be. Harry admired his foolish courage. No wonder the boy had made Gryffindor.

Madam Pince looked sharply at Harry, who smiled a little wanly.

"Why? What's wrong with him? Look perfectly healthy to me." The librarian said. Did she really spend so much time protecting her precious books that she hadn't heard the news?

"He's mute now, Madam Pince. It happened during the attack." Hermione explained. She was one of the only students who genuinely respected the irritable librarian, but then again, she respected anyone who loved books as much as she did.

Madam Pince was genuinely surprised at the news, but she hid it well.

"If you must all travel in a gaggle like that, at least bring you conversations to a whisper as you enter." With that, the librarian turned away and resumed her seat at her desk, not even looking at them.

Now all the Gryffindors were looking at Harry. He guessed what they were waiting for, so he gestured to the tables.

They all migrated to the seats and settled nearby each other, so that, even though they were spaced apart, they were still in a tight group. Harry didn't notice until he'd been reading about sign language for half an hour that he was in the precise center of the seated students, being protected to the last.


	9. Decisions and a Solution

I do not own Harry Potter.

...

The next rest of the day passed very much the same way for Harry. Everyone stared, the Gryffindors always had him in the center their group, and for most of the classes he was simply told to practice the wand movements, and he attempted silent magic.

He didn't have potions that day, which disappointed him. He had a feeling that he would enjoy potions much more from now on, because it was the only class in which he could accomplish anything, at least until he learned wordless spell casting.

And now that he had seen firsthand how ___useless_ he was at magic, he was determined to learn silent magic quickly.

Now Harry was sitting at the Gryffindor table on the Great Hall, waiting for dinner to appear. As he had grown used to, all the Gryffindors had bunched together instead of spreading out on the table, and many of them were keeping an eye on the Slytherins. Not that any Slytherin would try anything with so many Gryffindors around.

"Harry, I've thought of something." Hermione said as Harry pulled out his well worn writing tools. He gave her a quizzical look.

"All that parchment and quills and inks is too much to carry around. So, I've thought of a better solution until we all learn sign language."

___"What do you mean "all"?_

"The other Gryffindors are going to study British Sign Language, too. I think that Ravenclaws are interested too, and a few Hufflepuffs have been looking at books on the subject in the library…" Hermione said, but Harry started to write another message and she paused to read.

___"I thought I told you that I'm not coming back for a seventh year?"_

"I know you said that, Harry, but I think that the idea is silly. You need to stay here to study your silent magic and sign language. You can't go on this mission for Dumbledore unless you can take care of yourself, and you won't learn that in just the few days left of term. This is the safest place, whether it is a target of…Voldemort…or not."

___"We'll talk about it later. What is this 'solution'?"_

"You must know about muggle notebooks and pencils?" Hermione asked. Harry smacked his forehead. Why hadn't he thought of that? It was so much simpler that the wizarding way of writing. And Pencil was erasable, so he wouldn't take up as much paper.

"We'll get you a notebook and pencil at the end of term. Ron's sent a letter to his mum asking if you can stay at the Burrow during the summer, and I've asked my parents if I can stay there too. Ron…hasn't told his parents what happened, Harry. He thought it was best left up to you." Harry just nodded, apprehension on his face. He dreaded telling the Weasleys.

...

An hour later Harry was on his way to the common room, surrounded by the entire Gryffindor house. Since none of the gryffs had to go anywhere else they had all left simultaneously, causing quite a sight in the Great Hall. The other houses, who had begun to get used to Harry's usual escort of about ten other Gryffindors, were again astounded at the sight of all of Gryffindor House rising from the benches at the same moment and leaving in one vast mob. Harry had caught sight of McGonagall smiling at the sight of her house's amazing unity.

Harry hadn't seen a single Slytherin since he left the Great Hall.

They had nearly reached the portrait hole when there was a stir from the Gryffindors in the back. Harry turned to see what was going on; a group of maybe twenty students, all from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, were approaching, their eyes roaming over the Gryffindor multitude. Harry admired their bravery; it must have been very intimidating to approach the one hundred or so watching Gryffindors.

At the front were Cho Chang and Luna Lovegood. And when Harry spotted them, he realized that he recognized the others in the group as well. Dumbledore's Army.

The seventh and sixth year gryffs pushed their way to the back of the group, to confront the approaching students. Harry pushed his way through after them, not wanting things to get unpleasant.

"What do you lot want?" Angelina Johnson said. Her tone wasn't aggressive, but it did hold a note of warning.

"We just wanted to speak to Harry." Cho replied. She was still searching through the Gryffindor mob, trying to find him. Harry finally made it to the edge of the group and came free. He went up behind a couple of seventh years and tapped their shoulders, getting their attention. They were both taller than him, so Dumbledore's army hadn't seen him yet.

The two seventh years turned and frowned. Harry just motioned them to step aside, and one asked, "Are you sure?"

Harry nodded fervently, so they moved to let Harry through.

Every set of eyes in the DA group snapped to him. He smiled a little shyly.

"What are you doing Harry?" Angeline whispered. She hadn't been in the DA, like most of the seventh years there. So she didn't recognize the fact that all the students standing in front of her were trusted by Harry.

Harry fished for his parchment, and finally pulled it out. He gave the inkwell to one of the other students behind him and wrote, sloppily, a message for Angelina.

"___They are the DA, which I led last year. I trust them. All of them. Cho and Luna are my friends. Let them talk to me."_ Angelina shrugged.

"As long as you're certain, Harry." He nodded. "He says he trusts you, so…I guess it's alright. He said you're all from the DA?" Angelina said, to Dumbledore's Army.

"That's right. Harry was teaching us Defense all through last year." Cho said. Harry noticed that the other members of the DA from Gryffindor had come up behind him. He took the parchment back from Angelina and scribbled another note.

___"You guys can go into the common room. I'll be fine." _

"You sure, Harry?" Angelina asked. Harry again nodded, so Angelina started to herd the Gryffs into the common room. The members of the DA, however, stayed.

Once they were gone, Harry walked up to Cho and Luna and smiled by way of greeting. They smiled back, and then Harry was again surrounded, this time by members of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff as well as his own house. They were all hugging him and patting him on the back, and Harry just smiled his way through it all. He was happy to see this group of people, people he hadn't really spoken with since last year.

"We're so sorry about what happened Harry." Cho said.

"If you need any help with the Slytherins, you can count on us." Ernie McMillan said.

"It must really be awful, not being able to say anything." Luna said, with her typical tact. But it didn't upset Harry; quite the opposite. He knew that Luna genuinely sympathized with him.

Harry messily scrawled another message on his parchment, dipping his quill in the inkpot that Hermione now held.

___"Thanks, guys. It means a lot. But the Gryffs are really doing a good job of sticking with me. Every Slytherin I've seen today in the corridors has turned and run, or close to it."_

"That is sort of obvious." Said Michael Corner. "Every time you come around, about fifteen protective Gryffindors are with you. And when you left the Great Hall just now; that was amazing. Your whole house just picked up and left."

Harry grinned.

"I thought that the Hufflepuffs were supposed to be the loyal ones. I never expected something like that from Gryffindors." Susan Bones said.

"Well, we all love Harry. Even those of us who don't really know him don't want anything to happen to him." Neville said.

"Yeah. Who knows what those filthy Slytherins would do to him." Ron agreed.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Harry, Hermione told me that you aren't coming back for seventh year. Why?" Cho asked.

___"I have something very important and dangerous to do. Dumbledore's last request, really."_

"Well, you can't do it unless you've learned how to protect yourself again, Harry. All the Gryffindors can't go with you." Luna pointed out.

___"That is what Hermione said."_

"Well, Hermione has a very good point." Cho said.

"You should listen to her, Harry. She is trying to make sure you don't do something stupid." Luna added.

Harry sighed. He had already made up his mind about this, but he knew that Hermione's points were very valid. Was it possible that Harry didn't have to go immediately? It would make more sense if Harry could take care of himself; after all, on his mission it was very likely he'd run into danger every week, and he wouldn't survive unless he had learned how to perform magic again. But…every day he waited, more people were getting killed or tortured by Voldemort. That was what really bothered him. But it would be useless for him to get himself killed, wouldn't it?

___"I guess I'll stay…at least until I've gotten silent magic down."_ Hermione read his message out so that all the students could hear, and there were cheers.

Harry grinned again. It wouldn't be too bad to come back, not with his friends here to keep him company. Suddenly he felt very happy about staying for another year. He had been sad about it without even realizing it, and now that he'd changed his mind, his heart felt so much lighter.

...

By the end of the week and the term, Harry had managed to learn the signs for the letters of the alphabet. Now he could roughly communicate with his friends, who had all also managed to learn the British Sign Language Alphabet. Spelling each word out was too tedious for entire sentences, but he could express basic feelings or wants or names now, and it encouraged him. The sign language was so much more convenient than writing out everything; all of a sudden Harry wanted to get rid of his parchment and quill and ink with immediately.

Hermione had arranged with her parents to stay at The Burrow for most of the summer; she would be going to the Burrow for the first two months of the summer and then return to her parents for the remaining weeks.

The Weasleys had enthusiastically received the idea of Harry staying with them for the entire summer. Harry was happy he would see them, but he couldn't help but feel apprehension for the explanation he would have to give.

Hermione had already decided that the day after they got back from Hogwarts they would try to get to Diagon Alley to buy books on Sign Language and Silent Magic, so that Harry could continue his studies. She also wanted to get into muggle London to get Harry several notebooks and pencils, to replace his parchment and quill.

Harry smiled his farewells to his friends as he disembarked from the train in King's Cross, followed closely by Ron and Hermione. The train ride had been spent studying; all of them had been working on sign language. Ron was moving at about the same pace as Harry, but Hermione was already moving into the grammatical syntax of the language. Her learning speed still boggled Harry, even after all the years of knowing her.

Harry had also studied a little silent magic. Because his trace wouldn't expire until July, he wouldn't be able to practice his magic until he was seventeen. He wanted to learn as much as he could while he wasn't considered "out of school."

But now, they were approaching the Weasleys, and Mrs. Weasley was rushing forward the greet them.

"Oh, it's so good to see you all! I'm so glad you're going to stay with us this summer, Harry. A bed has already been set up for you in Ron's room, and Hermione has one in Ginny's room. " Mrs. Weasley kept talking as they joined the Mr. Weasley, Fred, and George.

Students by now were telling their parents the news about Harry. Surprisingly, no word had gotten out of the school about Harry's condition, so it was not yet public knowledge. But that was changing as Harry watched. People started to stare at him more frequently, watching his mouth to see if he said anything. Harry found it extremely awkward; especially since it was becoming obvious he wouldn't be able to wait until they had reached the privacy of the Burrow to tell the Weasleys.

Ron and Hermione had noticed the attention too, and they all met each other's eyes, passing a silent message onto each other.

It was time for the Weasleys to know.


	10. Strange Laughter

A.N.

I realized that I missed Dumbledore's funeral. Just…imagine that it has happened, pretty much the same way it does in the book. I really don't want to go back and write something so sad.

I do not own Harry Potter.

...

Mrs. Weasley was still talking, and more and more people were staring. Harry was beginning to panic.

Ron interrupted his mother.

"Um, Mum? Could we maybe get to the car? Harry's getting a lot of attention, and there is something we need to tell you. Preferably in private." Ron said, glancing around.

Mrs. Weasley seemed surprised for a moment, but then smiled.

"Of course, dear. Let's go to the car, then." To Harry's great relief they walked to the car and piled in. Mr. Weasley was about to start the old automobile when Ron stopped him.

"You may want to not be driving when you hear this, Dad. It's going to be a shock." Ron warned. With a concerned frown, Mr. Weasley didn''t start the car and turned to face his son.

"What is it, Ron? We've heard of Dumbledore's death; it's been in the papers. It's terrible, I know, but you must realize that we've heard about it for a week? It would hardly come as a surprise…"

This time Hermione interrupted.

"This is about Harry, Mr. Weasley. Something happened in the attack. It's…quite serious."

Now all of the Weasleys excluding Ginny and Ron were staring at Harry.

"What's wrong, deary? You don't look as if you're not well." Mrs. Weasley said. Harry fidgeted, just wanting Ron or Hermione or even Ginny to tell them already and get this over with.

Now the Weasleys were really concerned by Harry's silence. Even Fred and George were serious for once, probably realizing that this genuinely was something horrible.

Harry nudged Hermione, urging her to get on with it. She cleared her throat.

"Umm, well, it's sort of difficult to say…" Harry nudged her again, but finally Ginny piped up.

"Harry's become a mute." She said. Even though she didn't speak loudly her words silenced the car like a thunder clap.

"What?" Mrs. Weasley asked, in a whisper. "Harry, is that true?" Harry nodded, not meeting her eyes.

"Oh, Harry!" she burst out, tears leaking from her eyes. She leaned into the back seat and pulled Harry into an embrace, rubbing his back and squeezing him tightly.

"Harry, you listen to me. Whatever help you need, you come to me. You understand? I am not going to let you try to take care of yourself and push through this without any help. Do you understand?" Mrs. Weasley said, and then burst out in a fresh wave of sobs. Harry nodded into her shoulder, patting her back and hoping to calm her down.

Eventually she pulled away, rubbing her eyes, and Harry could see the rest of the Weasleys' reactions. Mr. Weasley looked as if her were in shock, and the twins were looking grim.

"I mean it, Harry. If you're having trouble with something I want to know. Okay?" Mrs. Weasley asked. Harry nodded again, this time meeting her eyes to let her know that he meant it.

"H…how…how long?" Mr. Weasley choked out. Harry did a quick calculation: three days unconscious, and then six until the end of term. He held up nine fingers.

"Since the attack. Harry was hit with a rogue curse in the neck. It…it was horrible just hearing about it. It…the curse…it…." Ginny couldn't bring herself to say it.

"Here, I've got his explanation that he gave to McGonagall." Hermione said, rummaging in her bag. She pulled out a piece of parchment that Harry recognized as the scroll he had written the story for McGonagall on. She handed it to him.

He looked at it for a second, remembering the contents. Then he passed it to Mr. Weasley, who began to read Harry's explanation of that night. Everyone quickly caught on that Harry was relating the tale of Dumbledore's murder as well as his own mutilation, and so no one spoke while Harry's words were read.

Even after Mr. Weasley had finished, everyone was silent. Mrs. Weasley was crying again, this time silently. The twins still hadn't spoken.

"Harry also has the full medical report from Madam Pomfrey. It shows exactly what the damage was." Hermione said, clearing her throat again.

"Harry, we're so sorry. For this to happen…it's horrible." Mr. Weasley said.

"Yeah, mate. We had no idea…how are you managing?" George asked.

"___Ok. Somethings hard. Happy here."_ Harry spelled out in sign. Everyone stared, but then Hermione translated.

"He said that he's okay, but some things are hard. He's happy to be here." Harry smiled uncertainly. He knew that the Weasleys must have no idea what he had just done; not many wizards were disabled so most of the wizarding community had no idea what British Sign Language was. Hermione had known about it because she was a muggle-born, but she had had to explain it to Ron, apparently.

"What did you just do?" Fred asked Harry. This made Harry happy; some people he had interacted with at Hogwarts had asked questions to his friends, instead of to him directly. It had annoyed him no end.

"___Sign language. Used deaf mute."_

Hermione again translated, and more.

"It's called Sign Language. It's used by the deaf and mutes to communicate, since it doesn't require any sounds and is completely reliant of visuals. Since there aren't many mutes in the world the only times I've ever seen it used is with deaf muggles, since the magical community can fix most defects before they become a problem."

"That isn't what he said!" Ron pointed out. Harry smiled and leaned back to watch his friends bicker.

"It's close enough, Ron."

"Harry only said 'sign language, used deaf mute.'"

"It's the same thing, Ron."

"No, it isn't! You made it seem like Harry quoted a book!"

"They needed more of an explanation, Ron. I couldn't just translate what Harry said and leave it at that."

"Yeah, but you could have…"

Harry sliced his hand through the air between them and rolled his eyes.

"___Enough. Mr. W drive."_

"He said…" Hermione began, but Ron interrupted.

"I'll translate this time! Harry said that was enough, and for 'Mr. W' to drive."

Fred and George, even though they had been somber, now chuckled at Harry's shortened version of their father's title.

"Do all three of you know this 'sign language'?" Mr. Weasley asked as he started to car.

"Yeah, but Hermione knows the most." Ron said.

"Ron and Harry know the alphabet, so they can only just spell words out. But really, sign language is much more complicated. There are signs for nearly every word and whole new grammar rules and syntax. There are also different versions of sign language for every country." Hermione rambled in typical Hermione fashion.

"So, Harry, you're just spelling out words?" Fred asked, and Harry nodded.

"Can you spell out my name?" George inquired eagerly. Harry smiled and nodded, then showed George the signs for each letter of his name while Hermione said the corresponding letter.

"___George."_

Harry went over it with George until the older boy could do it, and then Fred urged him to teach him his own name. So Harry spelled that out, too.

"___Fred."_

"Wicked!" the twins chimed simultaneously after spelling their names to each other, simultaneously.

"Teach us some more, Harry!" They begged. Harry, relieved that their attention had been distracted from something other than his silence, taught them the entire alphabet by the time they reached the Burrow. As they walked up to the house they were spelling out messages to each other.

"Wicked."George spelled, slowly.

"Our secret code!" Fred replied, just as slowly. They hadn't yet gained the fluidity that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had achieved. Harry tapped on their shoulders and spelled out his own message, quickly.

"___Not secret. I watching."_

Even though Harry had just dashed their hopes for a secret language, the twins were overjoyed to understand their first message from Harry.

...

The rest of the day was spent settling into the Burrow. Harry unpacked his belongings in Ron's room, finding that someone had moved a chest of drawers into the room for his belongings. Ron also "unpacked" but in reality he simply emptied his clothes onto the floor and shoved everything else into his closet, with no organization whatsoever.

They had a wonderful dinner prepared by Mrs. Weasley, and Hermione explained her plans to get into London to buy some things for Harry. The Weasleys immediately agreed, and it was decided that they would take a trip into London the following morning.

That night, Harry didn't have a single nightmare – a rare occurrence. He just felt so safe in the Burrow with the Weasleys that he didn't think it was possibly for anything to bother him at the moment.

So, when he woke and realized that he hadn't had a single nightmare, he 'whooped' in joy. He felt safe in doing this since his new version of a whoop was completely silent.

Breakfast was rushed as everyone prepared to go out; Harry and Hermione had to advise the wizard family on what to wear in order to actually blend in with the muggles. In the end, thankfully, they did look reasonable.

The first stop was a bookstore in muggle London to get several notepads and pencils for Harry, as well as a book on Sign Language. As Hermione had said, mutes were nonexistent (as far as she had gathered from reading) in the magical world, and deafness was extremely rare. Therefore it was unlikely that a magical bookstore would carry books on Sign Language.

They bought five small notepads and a box of pencils with a sharpener as well as several pens, as well as three books on sign language. Hermione used her muggle money and promised to let Harry pay her back later.

Then they reached the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry was in such a good mood that he had forgotten that the wizarding world now knew of his disability. He received a shock when he walked into the pub and found that Rita Skeeter, along with several other reporters and photographers, was waiting for him.

They bombarded the Weasleys and Hermione with questions, snapped pictures of Harry, and in short made themselves as intrusive and nosy as possible. Harry, having some idea of what it was like to be constantly asked questions by people who had no business asking, grabbed his friends' hands and forcibly shoved his way through the reporters until he reached the door. He shooed them out into the small alleyway and then went back for the elder Weasleys.

He completely ignored the reporters and photographers, instead dragging the Weasleys through them without any care if he stepped on a toe or shoved a nosy reported out of the way. He got the two Weasley parents out the door, and then went through the same process with Fred and George.

Once they were all out in the alleyway Mr. Weasley cast a locking charm on the door so that the reporters could not follow, at least until they figured out what Mr. Weasley had done.

Harry scrawled a message on his notepad.

"___It will be the same in the alley, though maybe not as condensed. You all just need to completely ignore them. Just push and shove your way through and don't talk. Trust me, that's the only way to do it. Hopefully they'll eventually get the message and leave, but we may have to deal with them the entire time we're in there."_

Hermione read the message so that everyone knew what Harry said, and they all nodded.

"Of course, we shall trust you judgment on these matters of paparazzi, Mr. Celebrity." Fred teased. Harry rolled his eyes and wrote another message as he scowled, thinking of that obnoxious Skeeter woman.

"___I hate being famous. Paparazzi are just annoying, and they tell all your secrets to the world if they get even a whisper of them._"

...

As Harry predicted, they were besieged by reporters and their camera men as soon as they entered the alleyway. They all followed Harry's advice and pushed their way to the bookstore, where the owner of the shop barred the reporters from entry.

"I'll not have my shop clogged up with your lot." The owner ranted as he locked the door, muggle style.

"Thank you, for that. They've been at us since we entered the alley." Mr. Weasley said.

"Why?" the owner asked. He couldn't see Harry, who was hidden behind the twins. Harry stepped into view and gave the owner a little smile.

"Ah… I see. They don't have any empathy, those reporters. While you are in here, at least, I''ll give you some peace. Is it true, what everyone is saying?"

"If you are asking whether Harry is a mute or not, the answer would be yes. But he's learning how to cope." Hermione replied.

"We're here for books on silent magic. Could you tell us where they are?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

The shopkeeper led them to his selection of books on the subject and then left them to it. Harry ended up buying four books, all on silent magic at different levels. Then they braced themselves to go out into the alley once more.

...

They made it back to the Burrow in one piece, just barely.

They had lunch, spent discussing the reporters. Then Harry, Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George opened up Harry's book on beginner's sign language and spent several hours learning different signs for common nouns. Hermione spent the time doing her summer homework.

The evening passed smoothly and without incident. Bill and Charlie were going to come to dinner that night, so Harry wondered what their reaction to his muteness would be like. He wasn't as apprehensive about this revealing though, since he didn't know Bill and Charlie as well as the rest of the Weasleys.

The two oldest Weasley brothers were shocked, obviously, but they quickly caught on that Harry didn't want to be treated differently, so there were no awkward scenes. They all went out to play a match of Quidditch, and came back sweaty and laughing, talking, or in Harry's case, signing, about various moves and stunts that had been pulled off.

Everything went perfectly normally until George cracked a particularly funny joke and Harry, who had been trying not to seem strange by laughing in his silent way, couldn't contain his laughter.

Everyone laughed at George's joke but they soon noticed Harry's chest heaving and his erratic breaths. They stared in concern, thinking that maybe something was wrong, until Harry realized their reaction and quickly got himself under control. He signed:

"___Laughing. Strange I know. No chords, no sound, no matter what." _Harry finger-spelled.

"He was laughing. Says he knows it's strange. But he has no vocal chords anymore, so he can't make any sound whatsoever. No laughing, screaming, moaning, groaning, nothing. Hermione and I have gotten used to it, but…" Ron shrugged.

"It's alright, Harry. It's your laugh now, so we'll just have to get used to it. Forgive us for our reactions." Bill said diplomatically.

Harry nodded and gave him a small, wan smile. But it was then that he realized that, no matter what he did, he would always be different. His unrealistic hopes for a normal, unnoticeable life had been completely dashed.

And he couldn't help but feel depressed about that.


	11. Only Limited By Imagination

If I owned Harry Potter, would I really be using fanfiction instead of making millions of $$? Honestly!

******A.N. **Fleur DeLacour will not make an appearance in this fic, as I do not know much about her and do not feel comfortable writing her character. I know that she IS Bill's wife in the Deathly Hallows, but I don't want to tackle that sort of thing. So, those of you who like her will not find her here.

...

Bill and Charlie stayed the night, and, like the twins, became interested in Harry's sign language. Therefore the rest of the night was spent by the twins teaching their older brothers the BSL alphabet while Harry studied silent magic.

The subject was very interesting. Apparently saying a spell helped to force magic towards achieving a specific purpose. It was not, however, necessary to get the magic to accomplish that purpose. It was mainly a focusing tool, both for the magic itself and for the spell caster.

Saying a spell helped to focus a wizard's mind on the thing he wanted the magic to do. Knowing an incantation helped to link the wizard's mind to the purpose he wanted to achieve, so, in theory, focusing on the purpose the magic was to have should be adequate to cast a spell. The incantation was completely unnecessary. This was how accidental magic worked. If a wizard wanted something badly enough and was so focused on that want, his magic would bend to that want.

But, most wizards became so dependent on the relatively easy method of verbally saying a spell that they were unused to focusing their minds to the degree where they could cast silently. True, quite a few wizards could cast a simple charm, such as ___allo homora_, silently. But these charms were first-year material and did not require much magic, and consequently not as much focusing power.

Because, the more magic a spell took, the more focus the spell caster had to have. This was why powerful spells were the hardest to learn, while weak spells were easier. Certain spells could require different amounts of focus depending on their use, however. Take, for example, the summoning charm, ___accio._ If a wizard wanted to summon something like a coin, little magic would be required to lift the coin and direct it to the wizard. But, if the wizard summoned something like a heavily packed trunk, much more magic would be required to lift and move the large, heavy object.

But, another twist existed. If the heavy trunk had had a featherweight or shrinking charm cast on it before it was summoned, less magic was required for the summoning charm to work. Spell casting worked a lot like physical strength. The heavier or larger the object - or the more difficult the task - the more effort was required.

Because spells relied on focus, the more focus a wizard had, the more "powerful" he was. True, wizards had varying levels of renewable magic stored in them, in their magical core. But the variations were minimal. What really determined a wizard''s power was his ability to focus his mind.

Which, Harry realized, was why quite a few powerful wizards he knew of were also master Leglimens and/or Occlumens. After all, Leglimency and Occlumency were considered the Mind Arts, were they not? From what Occlumency he had studied under Snape, he knew that it required a vast amount of concentration. It stood to reason that if one had the ability to master the mind arts, the more able he was to focus his mind, and therefore cast more powerful spells.

So, mastering Occlumency would help him to learn silent magic. Suddenly, Harry was upset that he had taken the study so trivially. If he had made any progress with Snape his life would be so much simpler right then.

Nevertheless, Harry was excited by his findings. If he truly mastered silent magic, which was required of him unless he wanted to be equal to a squib, he wouldn't even need to know incantations! There wouldn't even have to be a spell in existence for what he had in mind in order to bend his magic to his wishes. He would be able to do whatever he pleased with his magic, without being restricted to what "spells" he had learned in Hogwarts.

That would be a ___major_ advantage. To be able to do whatever wished in a battle with a simple thought would not only accelerate his casting speed, but it would also remove every restriction except his imagination.

The other thing Harry found interesting from his book was the origin of incantations. The first wizards, when they figured out what their abilities were, realized how they created active magic: with their minds. They also realized that their children had the capability to perform magic, because of the common accidental magic of youth. But, how could one teach mind focus to a child?

So, the ancient wizards had created an easier road. They used certain words in their language to represent what they wanted their young to learn. Because the children___ heard_ and said what they wanted to happen, they were unconsciously focusing on that purpose, causing controlled "accidental" magic to occur.

It was also important for Harry that the earliest wizards did not have wands. Their magic tended to be wild and hard to control, so they created a sort of aiming device that modern wizards called magical wands. A wand was merely a way to channel a wizard's magic to a specific target and to maintain control over the magic. In other words, another way to make wielding magic easier.

Again, control over magic involved focus. But it was doubly hard for a wizard to use wandless magic than it was for him to use silent magic, causing most of the current wizard population to be totally unable to use magic without a wand. As well as controlling the purpose the magic was to have, the wizard also had to concentrate on ___where_ the magic should be directed and how much magic should be used. Many wizards before the invention of wands used their arms, fingers, or even a mere tilt of the head to help them aim their magic. A true master of that time would have been able to cast magic without saying (or, for that matter, thinking) and incantation ___or_ moving a single muscle. He would have been able to stand stock still and conduct an entire battle.

It was because of the invention of incantations and wands that more "wizards" began to appear, creating the evident "rise" in magical population during the Dark Ages. In reality, all that happened was that wizards who had previously been unable to control their magic in order to use it now had an easy way to do so, and so more ___active_ wizards were created.

A master of silent and wandless magic could reach such degrees of focus that he could cast different spells simultaneously. Two, maybe even three spells at a time, all of different purposes. Such power quite honestly scared Harry. Not even Dumbledore had been that powerful, and neither was Voldemort. There wasn't a wizard alive that would be able to even lift a finger against such power. Voldemort wouldn't have stood a chance against such a master.

The most simultaneously casted spells of different purposes had been achieved by Merlin. His record was four. He had managed five, once, but that didn't count because three of the spells had been meant to achieve the same end.

No wonder there was an Order of Merlin. He could have taken on Dumbledore and Voldemort both and come out without a scrape.

Harry figured that after he had learned silent magic he would tackle wandless magic as well. He didn't know how good at it he would become, but he could try. It would take years, probably, but it would be worth it if he succeeded.

And if he did accomplish it, he would feel as if he was actually ready to take on Voldemort.


	12. New Discoveries

I do not own Harry Potter. Chances are that if I did I would be able to think of a more creative disclaimer!

...

The next morning, Bill and Charlie announced that they were staying another two days. Both had managed to take off a few days from their occupations, and so decided to stay with their family. Harry was pleased with this arrangement. With two extra people around, Mrs. Weasley didn't fuss over him quite as much; a relief. Harry loved Mrs. Weasley like a mother, but he didn't want to be set apart from everyone else because of her extra concern.

He wished he could tell her that, quickly, like he used to be able to if he wanted.

He could write his feelings, of course, but the downside of words was that only a very good writer could imbue their writings with emotion. Harry could not accomplish this. That was probably what he missed most about speaking. It was so easy to communicate quickly and with feeling, but now his communication had been limited to the time it took to write and ink was emotionless.

Sign language helped, of course, but that was also limited to the select few who also knew the language. There were few muggles who knew it, and next to no wizards. Writing would be his primary method of communication with most people from now on.

But the two eldest Weasley brothers also helped to keep Harry in high spirits. They, like their other brothers, loved a good joke. Most of the time they preferred to just stand back and laugh at the twins' antics, but they occasionally made their own jokes. Charlie liked dry humor, which was refreshing. With the two of them combined with Fred and George, Harry was never in a glum mood for long.

...

For lunch that day, Mrs. Weasley declared that everyone needed some fresh air and they would therefore eat outside. The boys, including Harry, set up a table out in the front yard, complete with a tablecloth. Then they all hung out outside while Mrs. Weasley and the girls prepared lunch, just talking and laughing.

Harry wandered away from the conversation, looking at Mrs. Weasley's flower beds. With a little cleaning, they would be quite nice. She had a wide variety of flowering plants set off with non-blooming plants. Harry noticed that the different plants bloomed at different times of the season, ensuring that the garden would always posses some color.

The only problem was the weeds. The ground was nearly covered in long grass and a few thistles. Harry thought what a shame it was to let all those weeds take over such a lovely garden. Then he had an idea.

For months he had wondered how he could pay back the Weasleys for their years of kindness. Now he knew how.

Harry knelt beside the flower bed and began to systematically pull the unwanted grasses from the soil, putting them in a pile beside him. The thistles he left; he would need gloves to remove those.

Five minutes' work and he had cleared an area about two feet square of the weeds, letting a small primrose plant have access to the sun. Harry sat back on his heels and smiled; despite what some people thought there was good in the world. You just had to look for it in the little things, most of the time.

The others had now noticed his absence and had wandered over to stand behind him.

"What are you doing, Harry?" Ron asked.

"___Garden."_

"Yeah mate, we saw that. But how did you do that?" Ron pointed to the patch Harry had cleared, and Harry frowned up at him. He honestly didn't know how to weed?

Harry reached out and pulled another fistful of grass up. Then he placed it on top of his weeding pile and looked pointedly at Ron. ___There. You get that? It's quite simple, _he thought.

"Oh, yeah. I guess that would work. It's just that when Mum weeds she uses this spell that she found in her housecleaning spell book. It never seems to work that well, but Mum usually doesn't have the time to do it how you are." Ron explained.

Harry nodded, showing his understanding. He gestured to the garden, inviting them to help.

"It's a good idea Harry. We can all help; it'll be a good surprise for Mum." Bill said. His brothers nodded in agreement and soon they were all intently weeding.

Harry accomplished the most, having cared for the Dursley's garden since he was four. It was nearly second nature to him so he could do it relatively mindlessly. So, instead of focusing on which clump of weeds he would pull next, he paid attention to what his efforts revealed, just like opening a wrapped gift. Every new pull showed something new and previously hidden. He saw a caterpillar, caught a glimpse of a field mouse, accidentally disturbed a nest of ants, and discovered a large female praying mantis.

He also found a few spiders, and knew that Ron was having the same problems. His friend kept leaping to his feet and stumbling backward a few paces, waiting for the dreaded spider to pass. Every time he did this the twins burst out laughing, remembering their prank that had caused Ron to be arachnophobic.

Ron just glared at them and went back to weeding, cautiously.

After fifteen minutes of their combined efforts, the garden was half-done. Everyone was pleased with their work by the time Mrs. Weasley declared that lunch was ready and vanished the prepared food to the table outside. As the others made their way outside, Charlie performed the ___aquamenti_ spell and they all rinsed the dirt off their hands.

"Good idea, Harry. Mum's going to be thrilled." Charlie congratulated as Harry rubbed the soil from the creases in his palm. Harry grinned up at him.

Mrs. Weasley was indeed "thrilled." She was actually ecstatic, even though the work was only half-done. She went around hugging the boys, giving them kisses on the cheek and saying how blessed she was to have "six such wonderful, thoughtful sons."

Harry did a mental tally. She couldn't be counting Percy, since he had distanced himself from his family and wasn't even at the Burrow. So why had she said "six" instead of "five?"

Then Harry understood as George mentioned that weeding had been Harry's idea, and Mrs. Weasley rushed over to Harry once more and gave him another peck on the cheek.

"Harry, you're such a thoughtful boy. Thank you so much." Harry grinned at her and did something he rarely did: he gave her a hug.

She stilled for a moment, knowing that Harry had never really been comfortable with hugs and almost never gave them. Then she returned it, and Harry knew that no matter what his surname was, he was a member of the Weasley family.

After lunch Harry and the others set to finishing the garden while Hermione and Ginny helped Mrs. Weasley clean up after the meal. They all took the places they had assumed before, putting Harry at the end of the flower bed with a cleared seven foot gap of garden between himself and Ron. Thus he was working in relative private, undisturbed. He sank back into his gardening mood. Pull weeds, discover new things.

Five minutes into their work Harry found something, or rather in his perspective, someone, quite interesting.

He had just yanked out a large clump of long, tough grass. He caught a glimpse of a sinuous body disappearing into the surrounding grass and realized that he had found a snake. On an impulse he "spoke" as he was prone to do if he was acting on instinct.

Except this time, sounds were produced.

**"Don't leave!"** Harry hissed, surprising himself. The snake's movement abruptly stopped and then a scaly head poked from the grass.

_**"**_**You are a speaker."** The snake hissed, its eyes narrowed.

It took Harry a moment to get over his shock to reply.

**"I am. I apologize for my shock; I had not thought I was able to speak the Naga language anymore, as I am not able to speak to humans anymore. I have not made any sound whatsoever in more than a week."** The snake appeared interested, and slithered from his grassy refuge to speak properly with Harry.

**"You are what humans call a mute?" **Harry nodded. **"How was your speaking ability damaged?"**

**"My vocal chords were burned completely away by a rogue curse."**

**"Humans have a certain type of vocal chords, which differ from the Naga vocal chords. This is why most humans are unable to speak the language of the Naga, as Naga are unable to speak the languages of the humans. But the speakers are able to speak the Naga language because they posses two sets of vocal chords. Their 'default' vocal chords are the ones that produce human sounds. But they have a second, smaller set which allows them to speak Naga.**

**"****Essentially you have three passages in your throat instead of two: one for air, one for human sound, and one for Naga sound. This third passage is protected much how the passage into your lungs is. Muscles - placed where both passages containing you vocal chords connect - control which set of vocal chords has air passing over them, allowing them to produce sounds. These muscles are very thick. They have apparently protected your Naga vocal chords, leaving you still able to speak the Naga language but not your human one."** When the snake had finished his lesson, Harry sat back, stunned, not even noticing the Weasleys gathered around and watching his conversation with a sort of horrified fascination.

**_"_Thank you for explaining this to me. If I may, have wizards discovered this? I was never told that my anatomy differs from that of other humans."**

**"I only know of one wizard who knows what I have told you. He, like you, is a speaker, and a powerful wielder of magic. He did a study on the reason for a speaker's ability and discovered what I have just explained. He passed on his discoveries to his familiar, my mother, who told me." **It was then that Harry realized that he was not speaking to an ordinary garden snake. The snake in front of him was a juvenile Ball Python.

Just like Nagini.

Voldemort's familiar.

**"Is your mother's name 'Nagini'?"**

**"Yes, that is correct. You have heard of her?"**

**"Her human is feared amongst humans. Everyone knows of both him and his terrifying familiar, the giant Python, Nagini."**

**"She would be pleased to know this. Unfortunately I have not seen her since shortly after I hatched from my egg, and I probably never will again. I wish you well, speaker. Maybe we shall meet again."** Then the snake slithered back into the grass and was gone from sight.

Harry sat there, stunned. He had made his first sound in over a week, and felt a little more normal. He had once again felt the welcoming vibrations in his neck. He brought his hand up and felt his throat, remembering the sensation as he stared at nothing, wondering.

"Harry…what just happened?" It was Bill. Harry snapped out of his wondrous mood and remembered that none of the Weasleys, excluding Ron and Ginny, had known that he was a Parselmouth. He had made Ginny and Ron swear they wouldn't tell anyone, and they hadn't.

Dumbledore had also kindly cast a charm at the end of second year on the school and its students, preventing any student from knowing of Harry's ability outside of Hogwarts. No one had known except Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

But now he had just given the best display of Parseltongue the entire family would ever see. And yes, the entire family, excluding the absent Percy, had seen. The girls had been outside, clearing dishes with Mrs. Weasley. Mr. Weasley had been helping with the garden, just like all his sons.

And now all of them were clustered around Harry, morbidly fascinated. Harry gulped as he slowly stood and dusted off his knees, not meeting any of their eyes.

"What were you doing, Harry? You were making noises…" George said, completely confused.

Harry sighed and scratched the back of his head. This was going to be difficult to explain.

"Harry, I thought you were completely mute? You never said you could still use Parseltongue." Ginny said.

"Whoa! Harry, you're a Parselmouth?" Fred demanded.

Harry nodded, closing his eyes. Many wizards considered Parselmouths to be "dark." He didn't think that any of the Weasleys were ___that_ bigoted, but Harry was rarely sure about anything.

"So…have you always known?" Mr. Weasley asked.

Pulling out his little notebook and a pen, he began to explain.

"___I first discovered I could talk to snakes over the summer before first year. I accidentally broke a boa out of a zoo habitat and put Dudley in the boa's place. I was so shocked when I realized that, when I spoke to the boa, he understood me and I could understand him. I didn't realize that it was a rare ability and it was called Parseltongue until second year. I could only get into the Chamber of Secrets because I'm a Parselmouth, you know.""_

"There's no need to defend your ability, Harry." Mrs. Weasley said, recognizing his mention of the Chamber of Secrets as a defense mechanism. "We don't hold it against you, and anyone who does shouldn't. It isn't dark; it is simply a magical trait. You can't help having it."

"But, Ginny, you just mentioned it. You knew?" Charlie asked.

Ginny nodded, lowering her eyes.

"After he had gotten me out of the chamber he felt I deserved a full explanation. Not to mention that the whole school was talking about it anyway…I don't know how it never made the press."

"___Dumbledore put a spell on the castle's occupants so that they would forget about it outside of Hogwarts. I didn't want more gossip about me than there already is." _Harry explained on his notepad, showing it to Ginny.

"We know, too. We were at the dueling club in second year when Draco cast a snake at Harry in a duel. It was about to attack Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Harry told it to stop. He didn't even realize he was speaking Parseltongue, so when everyone reacted in the obvious way, Harry didn''t even know what was going on. We had to drag him aside and explain everything to him. His being a Parselmouth was the primary reason why all the students thought he was the Heir of Slytherin." Hermione added.

"Wicked!" the twins exclaimed together, finger-spelling it too.

"Harry, that is all interesting, but how did you do it just now? I thought your vocal chords were gone. No sound, at all. That is what you yourself said." Ron asked. Harry glanced around at everyone before writing his answer. He didn't want to focus on the fact that he had understood every hiss that snake had uttered, but that was the only way to tell them exactly _why_ he could still speak Parseltongue. Everyone seemed a little awed, but no one seemed hostile. Harry felt it was safe to touch on his conversation with the snake after all.

"___When I first saw the snake – I didn't get his name – I acted on impulse and asked it not to leave. But the thing is, whenever I'm speaking and seeing a snake, I tend to unconsciously switch to Parseltongue. So the snake understood what I said, and recognized me as a 'speaker.' I told it I was mute, so the snake explained that instead of having one set of vocal chords capable of producing both human and snake sounds, I have two sets. The only set that got destroyed was the human one, because the Parseltongue set is in a completely different passage in my throat. I am still able to use Parseltongue because that passage didn''t take any damage."_

"Wow. That's amazing Harry! That proves that Parselmouths are genetically different from ordinary wizards, because their entire throat structure is different! That is a major breakthrough! I wonder why it was never mentioned in any books." Hermione wondered.

"___The snake I talked to was the son of Nagini, Voldemort's familiar. Voldemort is apparently the one who did the research and discovered why Parselmouths are Parselmouths. He obviously never published his research."_

"Harry, that is fascinating. Do you know what this means? It's a whole new breakthrough in magical genetics!" Hermione exclaimed. Harry frowned. He didn't want the world to know that he was mute when it came to human languages, but was perfectly fine talking to snakes. His life would be ten times harder.

"___I don't want anyone to know I'm a Parselmouth. That is that."_

"But Harry! You can't keep this from the magical geneticists!" Hermione protested.

"Why do you want to keep it a secret, Harry? It's wicked cool." George asked.

"___Don't you guys know how the world treats Parselmouths? We are shunned at best, down right prosecuted at the worst. The reason that Parselmouths are so rare is that the old wizarding government hunted Parselmouths until they were almost extinct. What if something like that happened again? Goodness knows the ministry is prejudiced enough."_

"Alright, I get it." Hermione said, admitting defeat. Her shoulders slumped noticeably.

Harry let out a sigh of relief.

"Harry, can you say my name in Parseltongue?" Fred asked, excited. Harry did another scan of the Weasleys' faces. They didn't judge him. Good.

**"Fred."** Again, those comforting vibrations rippled through his neck. He grinned and placed his hand on his neck to feel them even better, and said a whole sentence just for the pleasure of it.

**"Thank you all for not judging me on this."**

He knew that, unlike sign language, no one would ever understand this unless they happened to be a snake or Voldemort. But he could use it just to make him feel like he ___could_ speak, in a language people would understand.

"Wicked! That was really his name? You sounded like, 'sss hathr,' at first, but then you hissed a bunch of other sounds." Harry raised an eyebrow.

"___When I speak it, it sounds just like English. Well, not quite, I can tell the difference. But what you just said was just a load of sound and what I said actually had meaning. And, I did say your name at first, but then I spoke a whole sentence."_ He scribbled on his pad, and then smirked at Fred.

He noticed Charlie was looking as if he was deciding whether or not to say something, but then he just said it.

"You know your face scrunches up strangely and your head moves around when you speak it, right?"


	13. Tense Speech

I don't own Harry Potter.

...

Over the summer the Weasleys got used to Harry's seemingly odd behavior.

Because the Weasleys now knew of Harry being a Parselmouth, Harry would occasionally hiss a few phrases if he was feeling glum about being mute. Hissing was producing sound and vibrations, which was all Harry generally needed to cheer up. So it was not unusual to hear Harry speaking Parseltongue now and then, at the most random of moments.

They got used to his silent laughter soon enough, too. With Fred and George around there was always laughter, and most of the times whatever prank they'd pulled or joke they'd cracked was just too funny for Harry to hold in his mirth. Admittedly, they had still stared a little out of the corner of their eyes, at first, but the strange sight of Harry laughing was no longer quite so strange.

They also got used to his occasional "slip ups"; in other words, the times he forgot that he couldn't speak and tried to say something, only to have no sound come. Mostly these happened if he acted on an impulse: Ron shaking him awake in the morning and Harry automatically trying to say "good morning," or "what time is it"; shouting in frustration at the garden gnomes, yelling encouragement to a team mate in their games of Quidditch, muttering in annoyance about his homework, and calling for Mrs. Weasley to wait before leaving for Diagon Alley because he had forgotten to ask her to get him a new cauldron.

It was times like these that Harry was painfully reminded of his disability. Hermione had sensed this too, and usually gave him some sort of consolation after he "slipped up," as he called it. She insisted that they were not slips; it was perfectly natural, she said, to try to speak. They weren't mistakes on his part, because there was nothing wrong with them.

This did help, but there were some days that Harry just woke up depressed.

...

Harry was studying sign language again. He had actually progressed quite far, as he was now onto his second level text book. While the first text had mainly taught the signs for different words, the second began on the grammar and syntax part of the language, and sometimes it got downright confusing. Harry had never been one for grammar and writing, even when it was in English. Now he was studying it in another language entirely and sometimes it just drove him mad. Hermione had to carefully explain a concept or rule to him often, as she was on the third and last text. She knew all the rules and all the signs; the only thing she had not yet mastered was fluidity, speed, and accuracy. Instead of focusing on the practical part of the study, signing, she had focused on the concepts and rules which could be memorized. The practical part just took practice.

This was the first weakness in Hermione's study habits that Harry had ever noticed, but looking back, he realized that she had always been very theoretical as opposed to practical. True, she was also very good at practical, but she always mastered the memory bits before tackling something that required practice to achieve.

Still, Hermione was a major help where the second level text was concerned, and Harry doubted he would ever finish it without her.

Ron had also moved onto the second text, and had maintained his place with Harry. They were on the same level so they could study together, practice equal conversations with each other, and of course, complain about the work it required together.

Harry also continued with his study on the theory of silent magic and practiced focusing his mind. He couldn't try actual silent magic as he was under-age and out of school, but if he knew what he was supposed to do inside and out all that would be left would be to get results.

He practiced mind focus by repeating the exercises Snape had given him over and over. That was all he could do with the current resources he had. He did feel as if the exercises were coming easier and easier, though, so he assumed he was making progress. He'd have to get a book on occlumency in order to make further progress.

Ron hadn't bothered to research silent magic, but Hermione had dived right into it. But, for once, she was having trouble overtaking Harry in progress. He was so fascinated by what could be accomplished through silent and wandless magic that he had a desire to learn the books'' contents, inside and out.

He was determined to reach the level of Dumbledore and Voldemort, if not past that. He was entranced with the idea of being able to command his magic with simple intent, and being able to fire multiple purpose magics in different directions all at once. If he could learn how to do that Voldemort would be a piece of cake, and he would be able to live the rest of his life in peace because no one dared to mess with him.

So Harry spent most weeks of the summer studying and daydreaming about what a nice, quiet, unbothered life he would have after he defeated Voldemort.

...

The end of July, and Harry's seventeenth birthday, came quickly. Harry was counting down the days in his head, waiting for the hour when he would officially be free to perform magic outside of school, apparate, and officially be of age.

He would also be able to put to use all the silent magic theory he had been studying.

Before he could celebrate his birthday, however, an unexpected visitor arrived: Rufus Scrimgeor, the Minister of Magic.

Harry saw the man arrive with his four-auror escort. He had been studying his silent magic when he happened to look out of the window and see them apparate at the edge of the Burrow's wards.

Harry narrowed his eyes in distaste; Fudge had been a narrow-minded bumbling idiot, but Scrimgeor was radical and ruthless in getting his way.

Harry stomped twice on the wooden floorboards, heavily. It was his own invented way of calling for someone.

Mrs. Weasley poked her head into the room.

"What is it, Harry dear?" she asked. Harry moved out of her view and pointed the figures of the Minister and his guard walking towards the front door. Mrs. Weasley came to the window and squinted, trying to make out the figures. Harry tapped her shoulder and finger-spelled, ___"Minister." _All of the Weasley family had by now learned how to finger spell in BSL, but only Ron, Ginny, and the twins had made it past that so far. Everyone else was just occupied with other things and didn't have the time to study the language extensively.

"Oh my! The minister! Harry, go and get everyone else and make sure they look presentable. I'll go greet them and get them settled…" she bustled off to the kitchen to put away her apron.

Harry, remembering that the twins were upstairs, dashed up the rickety staircases to their room. Ominous hissing and spitting noises came from behind their locked door; not a good sign. They were experimenting again.

Harry knocked.

"What is it?" Fred asked.

"We're sort of busy!" George said. The hissing intensified.

Harry knocked again. Eventually, they would figure out the lack of response meant that the knocker was Harry.

"What the…No! Fred, don't try that charm, it'll blow it…" George's panicked voice said right before a BANG echoed, making dust fall from between the ceiling boards.

Harry knocked again, unphased.

"What the bloody…" Fred began to ask, annoyed, as he opened the door a crack. He face was covered in purple powder.

"Oh, sorry Harry. Thought you were Ron trying to play some sort of prank…" Fred started to explain, but Harry cut his hand through the air to interrupt.

"___Minister arrived with 4 aurors. Mum said get downstairs, look good." _Harry signed.

Fred took a moment to translate what Harry had said, and then he shouted back into their room, "George! Harry says the minister's at the front door and that Mum's about to have a panic attack that her family won't be respectable! Come on, we'll cast cleaning charms at each other together."

"One!" George said.

"Two!" Fred announced.

"Three!" They shouted simultaneously, followed by ___"scourgify!" _When Fred reappeared he was no longer covered in purple powder.

"___Could you find Ron? I'm supposed to be getting everyone together but I don't know where he is.""_

"Sure thing, Harry. We'll get everyone else. We can do it faster than you, you know. We'll apparate!"" Fred declared, then two pops echoed around the hall and Fred and George were gone. Harry shrugged and returned to the living room.

Rufus Scrimgeor was seated on the couch, holding a cup of Mrs. Weasley's tea. His aurors were waiting outside, something that relieved Harry. Mrs. Weasley was just placing a plate of biscuits on the coffee table when Harry entered. She and the Minister looked up.

"___What he want?"_ Harry finger spelled to Mrs. Weasley as he frowned to make sure she knew he was not pleased to see the Minister. Ministers always tried to manipulate him; that was how Harry saw it.

"Harry, the Minister is here to talk to you, Hermione, and Ron about Headmaster Dumbledore's will." Harry frowned. What did he and his friends have to do with the deceased headmaster's last wishes? As far as he knew the only thing Dumbledore had left him with was a mission, a mission to destroy Voldemort.

"Where are the others? Did you find them?" Mrs. Weasley questioned. Resigning himself to using his notepad, Harry wrote his next message.

"___I found Fred and George, and they apparated to get everyone else. I guess they should be here in a minute."_ Then he showed it to Mrs. Weasley, who nodded.

"Good, I should have thought of them to get the others. Goodness knows they take any chance to apparate they get…that's fine, Harry. Why don't you sit with the Minister for a minute while I prepare some sandwiches, alright?" Without waiting for a response she hurried into the kitchen.

Harry eyed the Minister warily, but, just to be polite, he took a seat. The farthest seat from the minister, of course, in an armchair. From then on he just watched the minister casually, trying not to seem as if he were staring. He would have said "hello", and ""how do you do," but he wasn't wasting his pen ink.

"How are you doing, Mr. Potter?" Scrimgeor asked a little awkwardly. He obviously wasn't quite sure, despite seeing Harry communicate with Mrs. Weasley moments ago, if Harry could respond.

"___As well as can be expected. Yourself?"_ Harry wrote, and then showed the message to the Minister. Scrimgeor cleared his throat, and Harry withdrew his notepad.

"As you…wrote," Harry's dislike of the man reached a new level, "…I am doing as well as can be expected. Fighting a war is exhausting."

"___But you have an administrative position. Even though I am sure you are tired by the end of your day, sir, you job is not life-threatening, like the aurors. And please do not refer to my means of communication as 'wrote.'' 'Said,' is fine. It is what everyone else says when quoting me." _Again, Scrimgeor cleared his throat uncomfortably. ___He probably thinks I'm abnormal. A valuable piece in his war strategy and a famous name, but distasteful._

"Yes…I am not in lethal situations daily. However, I would like to point out to you that as the Minister of Magic an assassination attempt could be made on my life any day…"

Harry interrupted in his own way: slicing his hand suddenly through the air. Then he wrote a message quickly on his pad.

"___By the time I was twelve I'd already had two attempts on my life. Now, only five years have passed, and the count has reached six. Those are just the ones where Voldemort himself tried to kill me. That does not count the time I was nearly kissed by a swarm of "Azkaban" dementors, another time two "Azkaban" dementors hunted me and my cousin down over the summer, one time when a nest of acromantulas tried to eat me, the first task in the tri-wizard tournament when I had to evade a dragon, and the time I was nearly killed by a werewolf. That puts life-threatening situations at eleven. If you count my latest injury which could have killed me, it's twelve, and I''m still counting. I didn't even mention them all. I've always been a target, for my entire life so far. I don't think you have anything to say to me about assassination attempts. Sir.""_


	14. Recalling Mum

I don't own Harry Potter.

...

Scrimgeor read Harry's message, astonishment warring with anger on his face.

"___I'll be honest, Minister. I haven't liked ministers or ministry workers so far, because Fudge tried to manipulate me as a political piece and he repeatedly told me that my own memories of Voldemort's return were wrong. Add that to Umbridge nearly literally torturing me, and my having a trial because I defended myself against dementors, and you can't expect me to love the Ministry. You'll have to prove yourself to me if you want my respect."_

Scrimgeor finally got his facial muscles under control as he read Harry's message. Harry had just withdrawn his notepad when Hermione and Ron entered, followed by the other present Weasleys.

Scrimgeor looked up and maintained a neutral expression at their arrival.

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, I need to speak to the two of you along with Mr. Potter here regarding the will of Albus Dumbledore." The Minister informed them. They both took seats, Hermione looking surprised.

"What is there to speak of, Minister? I would find it surprising if he left anything to us, just three of his students. But I cannot think of anything else that you would need to discuss with us." Hermione said. She glanced at Harry and quirked an eyebrow.

"___I don't like him."_ Harry informed her in sign, quickly.

"Suck it up." Hermione signed back, a little more slowly. The Minister raised an eyebrow at their exchange, but did not point out that it had been rude for them to engage in conversation that he was not privy to in his presence. But, then again, he probably had no idea what they had actually been doing, and that they had been communicating.

"I apologize for the interruption, Minister. Harry had to tell me something." Hermione said. Harry, out of the corner of his eye, saw that the other Weasleys were leaving the room.

"Mr. Potter was…'telling' you something?"

"Yes, it's called sign language. It was invented by the muggles so that people without their hearing or the ability to speak can still communicate. It isn't widely known in the magical world because most injuries here are able to be fixed. Harry's injuries were too severe to be mended, however, so we've all been learning sign language." Hermione said, pleased to share her knowledge.

"Really? That is quite interesting. I am sorry for Mr. Potter's injuries, of course. Unfortunately, things like that do occasionally happen. Regrettable, of course, but not unheard of.

"Now, down to business. I was quite surprised when I heard that Dumbledore had indeed left items for the three of you. They are quite odd; I can't imagine why he even thought of them when writing his will.

"First, to you Ms. Granger. He left this copy of ___The Tales of Beedle the Bard._" Scrimgeor produced an old, worn book from inside his robes and handed it to Hermione. She examined it briefly, no doubt trying to discern some hidden purpose behind the book.

"And to you, Mr. Weasley, Dumbledore left you this. I believe he called it a 'Deluminator.' Quite an interesting item, invented by Dumbledore himself." The Minister now pulled from his robes an item that looked similar to a muggle lighter. Ron took it and examined it, turning it over in his fingers.

He found a little catch at the top and pushed it; all the light in the room flew into the deluminator, and Ron stared at the little device in amazement. He pushed the catch again, and the lights returned to their original sources.

"Yes, a very interesting device, Mr. Weasley. Probably quite valuable, too. But, back to business. Dumbledore left a snitch to you, Mr. Potter. Do you know why he would leave any of you these things?" Scrimgeor handed Harry a simple golden snitch as he spoke, not giving Harry a glance.

"No, Minister. Other than the Deluminator, these items seem a little mundane. I wonder why he left them to us." Hermione replied, still examining her book.

"___Tell him that even if we did know it is none of his business anyway. If Dumbledore left us these things, then that was his choice. Why does the minister need to know about private affairs?"_ Harry signed, furiously. Ron held back a chuckle, but Hermione was astounded. With a furtive glance at the curious minister, she replied.

"Harry, that is rude. I can't tell him that!"

"___Then Ron can do it. Come on Ron. Be my translator. It's what I would say if I could say it."_

"No way, mate. I don't want those a-u-r-o-r-s coming after me!" Ron signed back, a little panicked at the idea of saying something so rude to the most politically powerful wizard in Britain.

The Minister cleared his throat.

"My business here is concluded, so I shall be off. I have a war to run, after all!" Scrimgeor stood.

"___Tell him he's not the one fighting."_ Harry signed.

"Harry, stop!" Hermione signed back.

"___What? It's true! He's a bloody coward!_"

"Goodbye, Minister. Good luck." Hermione said, now ignoring Harry while Ron grinned.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Granger. Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, I wish you a good day."

Then the Minister, and his aurors, had gone.

"Harry, that was brilliant!" Ron exclaimed once the guests were a safe distance from the Burrow.

"What was brilliant?" The twins asked as they led the rest of the Weasleys back into the living room.

"Harry! He called the Minister a 'bloody coward' because 'he's not the one fighting'!" Ron informed them.

"Harry! You didn't tell him that, did you?" Mrs. Weasley fretted.

"He didn't actually get one of us to translate those for him, among other rude messages. I wouldn't because he was being rude and Ron didn't because he didn't want to be arrested." Hermione said.

"___Yeah, thanks guys. I was trying to give him a taste of his own medicine! You should have heard what he was saying to me before you came in. 'I would like to remind you that as the Minister I could have an assassination attempt on me any day…' the nerve! As if he had any right to…_**cowardly self-righteous fool!**___ And then he referred to something I said as 'wrote.' He's the one who needs lessons in manners, not me! And he skimmed over my injury as if it were just some minor little accident…_**Of all the big-headed idiots! Thinks he's too important to pay attention to an ordinary person!**___ He wouldn't even look at me when he handed me the snitch, and he talked about me as if I wasn't there! _**I'm too small to be worthy of his envied attention, I presume! Too unimportant? Too lowly? Well, he'll get it; with that attitude…he'll be the first in the ministry to go once Voldemort invades…"** Harry had been signing, but when he got to his insults he unconsciously started using Parseltongue in his agitation.

Hermione and Ron had both been rushing to translate his signs for the rest of the family, but they couldn't translate Parseltongue. Thank goodness or Mrs. Weasley would scold him for being impertinent.

The others were listening to the translations as Harry finished his tirade in Parseltongue. The elder Weasleys looked astounded; whether it was at the Minister's rudeness towards Harry or at Harry's anger, he didn't know.

"Harry, I'm sure he didn't mean to be rude. He probably just didn't know how to handle the situation…" Mr. Weasley said.

"___Even someone who doesn't know how to handle talking to a mute should still know not to claim that his life is in danger daily to someone who's been tried to be killed regularly."_ Ron translated.

"Yes, that is a good point." Mr. Weasley conceded.

"___And he didn't have to act so disdainful of me, like I was beneath his notice."_ Again, Ron translated.

"Alright, Harry. We understand." Mrs. Weasley said, laying her hands on her shoulders to calm him down. He nodded and closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing.

"We agree with you, Harry! The Ministers are always pig-headed! You can't pay them any mind!" Fred declared.

"Yeah, they always act like that. The title always gets to their heads!" George agreed.

Harry smiled at them.

"___Thanks."_

___..._

The next day was Harry's birthday, and he had been shooed up to his room after dinner so that the Weasleys could 'prepare.' So he was contenting himself with studying again, memorizing his silent magic text in the hopes that, come tomorrow, he'd be able to perform magic again.

After he felt secure in his knowledge of silent magic Harry moved onto his Occlumency exercises. He cleared his mind and focused on nothing, letting himself slip into a trance-like state where he was in the world, yet separated from it. Where he was aware of his surroundings and yet didn't feel any emotion connected with them.

These exercises had become so easy that they were beginning to bore Harry, but he kept doing them, knowing that the ability to manipulate his own thoughts would be highly beneficial. He let himself fall from the trance and thought about the occlumency. What steps could he take next? There had to be something else he could do to advance his focus.

Hadn't Snape once said that after Harry had mastered the trance, he would move onto sorting through and organizing his thoughts and memories? Of course, Snape had not been nearly so polite. His words were closer to, "You would be able to organize your mind like a closet if you could just master this one, silly little exercise. However, I doubt you will ever attain that level, no matter how easily it can be reached."

Harry frowned and entered his trance again. Closing his eyes, he focused intently on one single thought, letting everything else fade away: his mum.

He let that one thought float in his mind as he concentrated only on ___it_. Nothing else came through; nothing else registered with his brain. The only thing that existed was...

He gasped and his eyes flew open, jerking him from his trance. But that one single subject of thought had seemingly opened a gate. Memories of his mother had flooded through his mind that he had never remembered. Anything he had ever seen or heard that related to his mother had cascaded over him, even memories from when he had been born.

He now remembered her looking down on him and smiling, a tear leaking from her eye in happiness. His father had been standing behind her, also gazing down on Harry with a proud smile. He could recall her bouncing him up and down on her knee, making silly noises at him. He had loved that, Harry knew, because he could hear his own baby laughter.

He remembered her voice as she sang him a lullaby, and could see a baby mobile decorated with owls over him. He remembered her trying to feed him some orange mush, and him spitting it out. She had laughed, and told him "You don't like that one, do you? How about this one?"

There were countless others as well; conversations he had heard, that he understood now but not as a baby. There was his mother with his dad, with Sirius, even with Peter Pettigrew, along with other people Harry could not recognize. There was so much information about his mother flooding through his brain that Harry could not help it: he started to cry.

He didn't know whether it was in happiness that he remembered her or in sorrow that she was not there anymore. It was probably both. All he knew was that, whether he had intended to or not, Snape had given him the most precious gift Harry had, and ever would, receive. The gift of remembering his parents.


	15. Turning Seventeen

I do not own Harry Potter.

...

Harry didn't study for the rest of the night. Instead he let all of his unlocked memories wash through him, getting to know his mother for the first time. She was more than he had ever imagined; cheerful, optimistic, and always ready to laugh. And she had loved Harry so much. He knew, because in more than half of his new memories she told him in varying ways that she loved him. Sometimes in a soft whisper as he was going to sleep, sometimes in a cooing voice as she played with him. The number of times she had repeated that simple sentiment meant so much to Harry. He was overwhelmed with love for her in return, even though she was not there to receive it.

**"I love you too, mum."** He hissed over and over, not even thinking about it. Then he switched to sign.

"___I love you so much, mum. You know that, right?"_

He didn't know how long he sat on his bed, repeating that he loved him mum in different languages. He mouthed it, he hissed it, he signed it. He told her that he loved her, over and over and over again, hoping that wherever she was she could hear him, and know that all those times she had expressed her own love for him, Harry had felt the same way in return.

He even felt like she was there, at one point, right in front of him. She was hugging him and whispering in his ear just how much she loved him: her love was immeasurable, she said. Harry relaxed back onto his bed so that he was lying down and just let himself be enveloped in those emotions. Loving, and being loved.

He was still submerged in his memories of his mother when someone knocked on his door. Letting out a heavy breath and making sure that his eyes were now dry; he got up and opened his door.

It was Ginny.

"Harry? I thought you might be bored…I was wondering if you wanted to play chess. Ron suggested it. He wants to have a tournament."

Harry thought a minute. What he really wanted to do was to sink back into remembering his mother, but he couldn't ignore the rest of the house. It would be good for him to spend some times with the others, just having fun. He had been studying a lot lately and he had probably been neglecting to spend time with his friends.

"___I'd love to, but how would I play? I can't tell my pieces where to go.""_ Harry signed. Ginny had progressed to the point where she could understand the more complex signs, so Harry didn't have to finger-spell.

Ginny frowned.

"I don't know. Maybe Parseltongue would work? Or I could tell your pieces what you want them to do. Why don't you come up to Fred and George''s room and we'll figure something out? That is where we were going to play. You're not allowed downstairs until the morning."

"___Alright, I'm coming. Just let me grab a sweater. That room is cold."_ Ginny nodded and Harry dashed over to his cabinet, found his sweater from last Christmas made by Mrs. Weasley, and pulled it on. Then he rejoined Ginny outside the room.

They walked up the stairs until they reached the twins' room. Harry heard everyone talking from inside, and laughing. Ginny led the way in.

"Glad you came, Harry! We thought you'd be buried in one of your books again!" Fred said cheerfully.

"___I was, but"_ he paused. He could tell them about his new memories, but for some strange reason he wanted to keep it a secret. ___"I started daydreaming."_

"Harry was wondering how he could command his pieces. I was thinking that maybe Parseltongue would work?" Ginny said.

"Most chessboards are charmed to understand the most common languages, but I doubt Parseltongue is one of them." Ron informed them.

"Yeah, it's too rare. And I doubt wizards would have thought of BSL either." George agreed. Harry slumped his shoulders, disappointed.

"___I'll just watch, then."_

"Blimey, you will! We can charm a chess set! We'll need your help, Harry, but in half an hour or less we will have made the first Parselmouth chess set in history!" Fred declared. Harry grinned.

The twins held true to their promise. After the twins cast a few complex spells, the purposes of which Harry had no idea, Harry hissed the Parseltongue alphabet, and the chess set could understand him. It was such a novel experience for Harry – to make sound and to be understood –– that he was grinning uncontrollably right up until they started to play.

He was paired with Ginny, and they were set to play last. George and Fred had decided to team up and challenge Ron, while Hermione declined participating. But for once she wasn't studying or doing homework. She watched the game with interest, sometimes asking questions about a strategy or even making her own suggestion for a move.

That night was the first time Harry had ever seen Ron beaten at chess. Even though it was close game, George and Fred managed to beat him with just three remaining pieces.

Then Harry and Ginny took their places on either side of the chess board, while the pieces rearranged themselves for the start of a new game. Harry was white, while Ginny took black.

"Pawn to D2." Ginny ordered, starting the game.

"___Knight to F4."_ Harry hissed, and his knight moved to the designated position. Harry was delighted. Chess was one of the things he hadn't thought he would be able to play anymore.

"___The next suggested move is to move the bishop to G3." _Harry's king hissed. Harry was surprised by this. He had known that the pieces would understand him, but he hadn't known that they would also be able to speak Parseltongue.

"What did your king just say, Harry?"

"___He made a suggestion for my next move."_

"That's not fair! You'll be able to discuss tactics openly without me understanding!" Ginny protested.

"Any advantage Harry can get, he needs. Trust me; he's not the best chess player." Ron said, smirking.

"Says the man who was just beaten by three singular pieces!" Fred taunted.

"___He's actually right. I don't think I've ever won a game of chess."_

"Change the record, Harry! Beat Ginny!" George encouraged.

"___I can try, but I've never played against her."_

"Go on then, make your move, Ginny!" Fred urged. Ginny gave Harry a challenging stare, and the game carried on.

Ginny wasn't an extraordinary player, but she was a good match for Harry. The two of them didn't gain an advantage over each other until Harry managed to take Ginny's queen, and he had only done that with the help from his chess pieces. When the queen fell Ginny deflated. Her queen was what she had been using to take all of Harry's men. Not anymore.

After that, Harry began to win, slowly taking Ginny's pieces one by one until she only had a knight, three pawns, and a bishop left in addition to her king. Harry still had a reasonable army composed of both bishops, a rook, a knight, four pawns, his queen, and the king.

He knocked Ginny's knight out, and then began to pick off her pawns that had, until then, been protected by her knight. She managed to take one of his bishops, but she now only had two pieces left.

Harry corned her bishop and took the piece. Then Ginny began to move around her king, knowing that she was already defeated. Harry drew a net around the king; positioning his rook so that the king could only stay on a single half of the board, and then his queen reduced the free area to a single quarter. Then he moved his bishop beside his queen so that their covered squares slotted side by side, reducing the safe area for Ginny's king to a little wedge of about five squares. Ginny just shook her head and continued to move her king around in the little area, knowing that she couldn't escape.

Now Harry moved his rook to block off half of the wedge. Then a pawn to cover a single square of the safe area, and he declared checkmate to his pieces and told them to relay his declaration to Ginny.

"Checkmate!" Harry's king chirped, and Ginny's king dropped his sword and raised his little hands in the air.

Harry grinned.

"___Good game, Ginny."_ Names had to be finger-spelled in BSL, unless a person made up a sign to represent themselves.

"Yeah, good game. Nice move to catch my queen." She said. She was smiling, even though she had lost. "We''ll have to have a rematch sometime, so I can beat you."

"___You can try!"_ He signed, grinning, and then Ginny threw a pillow at his head and he had to duck. "___Missed me!""_

"Now you've got to kiss me!" Fred and George completed the chant. Ginny raised her eyebrows at them.

"Well, actually you'd have to kiss Harry…" George said, trailing off.

"Yeah, if she kissed one of you two that would just be strange." Ron agreed.

"Go on, Ginny!" Fred urged, and George wolf-whistled. Ginny glared daggers at them.

"___You don't have to Ginny. You can ignore them; I wasn't going to say the chant."_ Harry signed awkwardly.

But Ginny threw her arms around Harry's neck and before he knew what was happening, she was kissing him, and he was kissing her. He wrapped his arms around her and enjoyed having her so close, in his arms, where he could feel her warmth and her soft lips and her arms keeping him close to her.

Harry wasn't aware of much at that point, but the room had quieted. The other people in the room knew that Harry and Ginny weren't just fooling around, and that they genuinely cared for each other. Even the twins didn't tease them in the midst of their moment.

Finally, Ginny drew her head away, keeping her arms around his neck. She looked up into his eyes and smiled warmly.

"I love you, Harry Potter." She whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. Harry gulped. He would do his best.

"I love you too, Ginny." He mouthed, hoping she knew what he was saying. Her smile grew wider.

Harry heard someone clear his throat, and he remembered that he was not alone with Ginny. Ginny apparently realized the same thing. They let go of each other and turned to face the others, both of them blushing furiously.

___I just kissed Ginny in front of three of her brothers! I'm going to be dead before I'm even seventeen! _Harry thought.

"Nice kiss, you two." Fred joked, trying to cover up his surprise.

"Yeah, I rate it at a nine out of ten!" George agreed. Hermione was shooting furtive glances at Ron, who just looked uncomfortable with the situation and didn't notice.

"Happy seventeenth birthday, Harry." Ginny said, and pointed to the twins' wall clock. It read exactly midnight.

Harry thought that it was the best way to turn seventeen that he could ever have possibly imagined.


	16. Emerging Doubts

I do not own Harry Potter, unfortunately.

...

Harry went to sleep that night filled with wonderful emotions. Love for his mother, who he felt like he knew now. A different kind of love for Ginny, who felt the same way about him even though he couldn't properly tell her that he loved her, a fact that was really beginning to bother him.

Despite his elation, he couldn't help but wonder, "Doesn't Ginny deserve someone who can tell her what she deserves to hear?"

"Come on, Harry, wake up! Mum's already got breakfast ready!" Ron's voice pulled Harry from his dreams. Harry opened a single eye to see Ron standing over him, already fully dressed. Harry huffed and pulled his pillow over his head. He wanted to kiss Ginny again in a dream.

"Get up, Harry! We're all waiting for you! I'm starving!" Ron pleaded.

Harry huffed again, loud enough so that Ron could hear it. There was a few moments' silence and then…

"Ginny's waiting too, you know."

Harry jerked up and jumped out of bed, and then dashed into the bathroom to have a quick shower and brush his teeth. He made a new personal record for getting downstairs in the morning: three minutes.

"There you are, Harry dear! I've made pancakes with eggs and bacon and sausage, and Hermione's just buttering the toast. You go ahead and sit down; I'll get you some tea." Mrs. Weasley said as he came down the stairs.

Harry stopped in his tracks as he took in the Burrow. Streamers of red and gold decorated the door frames and windows, charmed to shimmer in the light. Gold sparks were showering down from the ceiling, disappearing before they reached the floor. A large banner across the kitchen read, "Happy Birthday Harry!"It had lions on either end of it, periodically roaring and swiping their paws through the air. A red tablecloth was laid over the kitchen table, and Mrs. Weasley had set the table with her best china set. Vases of bright summer flowers were scattered around the house, adding plenty of color and a pleasant scent. Harry stared at it all, awed by the effort the Weasleys had taken just to give him a Happy Birthday.

"Do you like the decorations, Harry?" Ginny asked him as she appeared from the kitchen. She had dressed a gold sequined skirt with an embroidered green tank top. A little jeweled clip decorated with green gems adorned her hair. Harry switched his stare from the house to her. She looked beautiful, he thought. His trepidations from the previous night returned at the sight of her.

___"Yes, they're brilliant. I can't believe you guys went to all this work…how did you manage the falling sparks?"_

"Fred and George figured that out. They nearly burned a hole in the ceiling!" Ginny said as she took his hand and lead him to a seat at the kitchen table. The contact made Harry want to shout for joy.

"And of course we'd do it for you, Harry. You mean a lot to all of us, you know." She continued. He couldn't help it. He was grinning stupidly now.

They reached the kitchen table. Harry smiled sheepishly as he pulled out Ginny's chair for her, then pushed it back into position so she could sit. He took the spot next to her, before anyone else could take it.

Everyone was taking their seats now, and Mrs. Weasley and Hermione were levitating or carrying the trays of food in and laying them on the table. It all looked delicious.

Everyone had finally taken their seats, but no one was speaking. Harry furrowed his brow; the silence was strange. They were all just...looking at each other and nodding. He nearly jumped out of his skin when they all suddenly shouted, "Happy Birthday, Harry!" Then they all burst out laughing at his reaction, and he smiled and laughed with them.

"To Harry! The tenth Weasley!" Mr. Weasley declared as he raised his teacup in a toast. Everyone repeated the toast and Harry felt a warm glow inside. This was his family, now. He would always love his mum and dad, but they weren't able to care for him any longer. The Weasleys, however, were; and accepted him as one of them.

...

After breakfast, Harry suggested that they all go outside to play a game of quidditch. They played for several hours, swooping through the air and trying to score goals in their make-shift goal rings. Fred and George had conjured three rings either side of their "pitch" that floated in the air, mimicking real Quidditch goal rings. They had even managed to persuade Hermione to play as well, so they had two even teams of three.

The game finished when Mrs. Weasley called them for lunch, which she had decided they would again have outside. They had finished with an even score, so they all tried to discredit several goals the other team had made as they walked to the front yard to set up the table.

Everyone made Harry relax while they helped set up lunch, so, pushed away from the table, he went and sat down by the newly weeded flower bed. He thought back to the day he had discovered he could still speak Parseltongue, and wondered if the snake he had spoken to was still around.

Only one way to find out.

**"Son of Nagini, are you here?"** Harry hissed in the snake equivalent of a shout. It was only slightly louder that the usual hisses he made, but he supposed snakes had sensitive ears so they would pick up on the difference anyway.

**"Yes. I was wondering if you would seek me out once more."** came another hiss, from farther down the flower bed. Harry saw a leafy plant rustle, and then the same snake he had spoken to before emerged and slithered to him.

**"If you don't mind, may I ask to know your name?" **Harry asked curiously.

_**"I am Jyri. May I also know the name of you, speaker?"**_

**"I am Harry Potter."**

**"Oh, yes, mother once spoke of you, and the great rivalry that exists between yourself and her human. But amongst the Naga the greatest tale told of you is of the slaughter of one of the Great Naga, one of the Naga Kings."**

**"I have killed a basilisk, but only because it was attacking students at my school. If someone hadn't stopped it, it would have killed someone, eventually." **Harry hissed sharply.

**"I see. I now understand your actions; you were simply protecting your nest."**

**"You could put it that way, I guess." **Harry said. He relaxed again.

**"What are the other humans doing? They have seemed very busy. One of them nearly stepped on me as I tracked a mole through the grass." **Jyri seemed highly annoyed.

**"It is my birthday, today. We are having a party, of sorts. This birthday is special; I am coming of age."**

**"You are ready to use your magic freely, then?"**

**"I suppose I am, now. I haven't actually done anything with it yet…I don't even know if I can."**

**"Why do you doubt your ability? You have performed magic before, have you not?" **Jyri inquired.

**"I was still able to speak English the last time I performed magic. I have not had the opportunity to attempt it silently, yet."**

**"Are you planning on trying this soon? I have a nest that tends to get very cold at night. I hope that you can warm it for me."**

**"Couldn't you just move your nest?" **Harry asked, confused.

**"I could, but I do not wish to. It is nearby a wonderful clump of grass that attracts the mice, and it gets a lovely wash of sunlight over it at dawn. But at night it tends to get cold, as it is not very sheltered." **Harry had never known a snake could grow attached to a home, like a person, but apparently they could.

**"If I manage some magic, I will find you again and you can show me to your nest. I will try to warm it for you, then." **Harry offered.

**"That would be most gracious of you, Speaker Harry."**

"Harry! We're ready to eat, come to the table!" Hermione called. Harry glanced over his shoulder and nodded to her, then turned back to Jyri.

**"I must go; my friends are waiting for me."**

**"It was nice talking, Speaker Harry. I hope to speak to you again soon."** Jyri hissed.

**"Thank you for the conversation, Jyri."** Harry replied.

**"Now, where did that plump-smelling vole go to…?"** Jyri muttered as he slithered away through the plants of the flower bed.

"Harry! Come on!" Ron called.

___"Sorry!"_ Harry signed as he started towards them. He saw that the table had been laid with a red cloth, and food of all different varieties had been placed down the center of the table. Most of the Weasleys were already seated, excepting Ron and Hermione.

Harry scooted into one of the last unoccupied chairs at the table, between Hermione and Ron.

"What were you doing, Harry?" Hermione asked.

___"I met that snake again. His name is Jyri, and he wants me to put a warming charm on his nest if I manage some magic."_

"___When_ you manage magic, Harry, not ___if_." Hermione corrected, and Harry just stared down at his lap.

"Don't worry about it, Harry. You've been studying the bloody subject for the entire summer; you've nearly matched Hermione in the amount of time you've spent reading. You'll get it, and pretty quickly, I'm sure." Ron encouraged, sidetracked by serving a large portion of sausage dripping in gravy onto his plate. Then he saw the Yorkshire puddings, and he was no longer interested in the conversation.

"Ron's right, Harry. You don't have anything to worry about. You can't expect immediate success with silent magic, but I doubt it will take long before you accomplish something with it." Hermione continued.

"What was Harry doing?" Fred inquired from the other side of the table.

"Yeah, didn't see your explanation, Harry, sorry. I did catch something that looked suspiciously like 'snake,' though." George added.

"Harry had another conversation with Nagini's son. Apparently its name is Jyri, and it wants Harry to put a heating charm on its nest." Hermione explained.

___"He, Hermione. Jyri is a he, not an it."_ Harry corrected.

"Sorry, Harry, but most people don't refer to strange animals with gender-specific pronouns." Hermione apologized in her knowledgeable way.

___"I guess not, but snakes are different, at least for me. Jyri is sort of a friend, now, I guess."_

"Wait, you're ___friends_ with a ___snake_?" Ron asked, suddenly aware of the conversation again. The twins looked at each other and grinned.

"Wicked!"


	17. Power in Practice

I do not own Harry Potter, blah blah blah.

...

The rest of the day was relatively quiet. They held another chess tournament, which Ron won after beating the twins. Then Harry was showered with gifts, and urged to open "that one!"

The elder Weasleys gave Harry a new set of quills and inks, saying that his other ones were getting much too worn from all the writing he had done in the beginning of the summer. The twins had gotten him his own chess set, and enchanted it to respond to Parseltongue. Hermione had found a book on Parselmouths - "both light and dark" – and Parselmagic. Harry didn't know how she had obtained them, as Parseltongue had been declared dark by the ministry and all books on the subject had been confiscated. She must have gotten them from Knockturn Alley, somehow.

Ginny had bought him a whistle. She said he could use it whenever he was in trouble or needed help, instead of pounding on the floorboards. It even had his initials engraved on it, and had been strung on a red cord. Harry had smiled at her and put it around his neck. He would need it at some point, he was sure.

Ron had bought him a whole box of candies that made people create different animal sounds, magically.

"I checked on how they work. Vocal chords or no, you can use 'm, mate!" Ron had said. At which point Harry had grinned and popped one of the candies in his mouth, and promptly squawked like a monkey.

Finally, after they had had a dinner just as big as lunch, Harry had gotten away to practice his silent magic. He sat in a shadowed corner of the sitting room and placed a small feather that Fred had transfigured for him on a table in front of him. Then he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the feather. Focusing intently on making the feather ___float_, Harry mouthed the incantation ___wingardium leviosa_ to help his focus.

Nothing happened in the first half hour of his practice. Harry kept getting distracted by the people around him. Fred and George laughing as they played Exploding Snap, Ron's questions to Hermione about his homework which he had finally decided to do, and even Hermione's book pages turning kept distracting Harry. Finally he picked up his feather, textbook, and wand and retreated to the room he was sharing with Ron.

Up here he could still hear the occasional explosions from the twins' game, but they weren't nearly so loud, and there weren't any other sounds. Hopefully, here he would get something accomplished.

Again he set himself up in front of that little feather, and pointed his wand at the thing and resumed his attempts to get it to float.

It was fifteen minutes of uninterrupted concentration before anything at all happened.

The feather seemed to do a sort of hop on the table. Harry was so startled the he jumped and his chair tumbled over backwards with him in it. Harry got off the floor and stared at the still feather fixatedly. Had it really moved, or had he been imagining it?

Feet were pounding up the stairs and Hermione was shouting his name. But Harry didn't care; he had made the feather ___move_! He continued staring at that little innocent downy feather with wonder, and he didn't really notice the door banging open behind him.

"What happened Harry? Are you alright?" Hermione asked. Harry turned to face her, still in a sort of daze.

"Harry, what happened? There was this big crash…" Ginny added. Harry realized that everyone was standing just outside the door. Harry lifted his hands to sign a reply, but at that moment couldn't think of what the motions he needed to do were. So he just pointed at the feather.

Hermione walked briskly into the room and stopped beside him.

"Harry, what happened?" She asked firmly. Her tone finally snapped Harry out of his daze, and suddenly he was filled with excitement.

___"I got the feather to lift! I did it! Well, it sort of just jumped, but it surprised me and I fell over. That is why the chair is on the floor, but I did it! Can you believe…"_ Hermione stopped him by gently taking his hands and pushing them down.

"Harry, that's brilliant! I told you it wouldn't take long." Hermione said, smiling.

"What did he say? I couldn't catch it; he was signing so quickly…" Ron asked.

___"I did it, Ron! The feather jumped!" _Harry signed, more slowly this time. Ron grinned and clapped Harry on the back.

"I knew you would do it, mate!"

___"Yes!"_ Harry shouted in Parseltongue as he leaped in the air for joy. Then he noticed that everyone was watching him, amused.

"Now you just need to keep at it, Harry. It'll take you awhile to accomplish more complex spells, but you'll do it." Hermione encouraged.

After that Harry was nearly always in some secluded spot, practicing his magic. He kept working at the levitation charm until he was able to lift a dinner plate. That had taken him a week. Then he started practicing the summoning charm, and managed to summon his broom to him after a week and a half. Then he started to work on things simultaneously. He managed to make a deal with the twins: he would be able to practice ___stupefy _and ___petrificus totalus_ on them for two hours every day, and in return he would be the test subject for the next two prank items they developed. Ron and Hermione had both advised against it, but he needed to practice his combat magic, ad if the twins were willing, why not?

As it turned out, Hermione and Ron had been wise in the advice. In just three days Harry had been uncontrollably laughing and unable to stop, doing ballet against his will across the front yard, and had an unstoppable bout of the hiccups. Each time he had to be stupefied in order to cause the condition to cancel, a failsafe that the twins worked into all of their projects before testing them.

But Harry, in return, got to put all his energy into casting his combat magic against them for two hours every day. He hadn't managed to actually do anything yet, so the twins mostly just stood in front of him talking. But each time he tried to cast the spells, he though he felt something inside him ___give_ a little more, as if there was some sort of barrier preventing his magic from pouring out.

Harry had also made a little progress in his occlumency. He had figured out how to organize his memories into neat categories, and to pull one memory to the forefront of his mind at will. He could then examine it in detail as if looking at a picture or video. It was amazing to Harry, to be able to have so much control over his thoughts. Was this what Snape's mind looked like? So organized and carefully controlled, just like a filing cabinet?

Harry had also rooted out all of the memories he had of his father and Sirius. Most of each had been from when he was just a baby. But each and every little glimpse of their faces in his mind was priceless to him.

These times, the memories didn't come in a flood like the ones of his mother had. With his mind organized Harry had focused on "dad" and suddenly the memories were just…there. He could manipulate them just like his other more recent memories. So Harry had sorted through them and sort of "watched" them, like videos. But his heart swelled with happiness and sorrow over and over as he repeatedly saw his father's face.

Two weeks after his birthday Hermione left, saying that she would see them all at Hogwarts. She apparated home, starting Harry thinking on a new subject of thought. He couldn't use a floo anymore, unless he went side-along with someone. He could use portkeys, but those were difficult to make and regulated by the ministry. So the only other choices Harry had for transportation was muggle methods, broomsticks, and apparition.

Broomsticks were fast, but they still took a long time and it could be very dangerous, especially in bad weather. And in emergency situations that required a quick getaway, a broomstick wouldn't cut it. Neither would muggle methods, which were even more unreliable than broomsticks. So, apparition. Harry hadn't done too well in sixth year trying to learn to do it, and he hadn't yet even taken the ministry test. He'd have to work on it at Hogwarts, along with the sixth years. Then, when he mastered it, he could get his apparition license from the ministry. Hermione already had hers, and Ron was scheduled to take the test in two weeks, two days before they would leave for Hogwarts. Harry and Ron had planned on taking the test together, but Harry wasn't ready yet, so Ron had reluctantly gone ahead and scheduled the test.

Soon, both of Harry's best friends would be completely independent, able to transport, defend, and support themselves. Harry, however, felt like a first year in comparison. He could do none of those things.

Yet.

Three weeks after his birthday, it was nearly time to return to Hogwarts for seventh year. Harry had mixed feelings about this: on one hand, Hogwarts had always felt like his home, and he longed to return to the endless stone corridors where one could find a place to be alone, even amongst about a hundred or more other teenagers. Hogwarts had always made him feel safe.

But on the other hand, there was the problem of the other students. Harry knew now that the Gryffindors were on his side. But what about the other houses, and the Slytherins especially? He was bound to be nastily pranked at least, maybe even bullied.

That was why he was feverishly trying to perfect his ___petrificus totalus_. He had managed a reasonable stunner a couple days ago, and had since seen it grow more powerful in his hours of practice. Hermione had already advised him to learn the spell for waking someone from unconsciousness, ___enervate_. He would need it, since he could now only fire two stunners in practice now before both Fred and George were knocked out.

But the petrifying spell was slightly more difficult than a stunner. Harry thought of it like this: The muggle way, all you had to do to knock someone out was to give them a good bang on the head. But to immobilize someone took a lot more energy. You had to wrestle every muscle into submission.

Harry was practicing now, on Fred. George's turn was in fifteen minutes; right now he was just watching Harry fling weak petrifying spells at his brother that only resulted in Fred not being able to blink, or maybe to not move an arm on Harry's best spells.

Harry narrowed his eyes in determination. He could feel his magic surging through him, trying to pour from the tip of his wand. But again, something seemed to be holding back his magic.

___Focus. Freeze Fred. Make him unable to move…_Harry thought, trying to unleash his magic at the bored twin.

He pursed his lips, getting a little frustrated. Why couldn't this be easier? Why couldn't the blasted spell just work?

Harry sighed, and focused again. Then he had a brainstorm. Why couldn't he use some of his occlumency exercises to help his focus?

He cleared his mind and focused on a single thought. ___Pertrificus Totalus._

Memories came to the forefront of his mind. Hermione petrifying Neville in first year, Harry teaching the DA the spell, Order members and death eaters using the spell in battle from both fifth and sixth years…

Harry found the memory of when he first learned the petrifying spell in Defense Against the Dark Arts, in third year. He remembered Lupin giving his students instructions on how to make the spell work.

Harry focused on the image of Lupin's petrifying spell in the memory, and then imagined that same spell shooting from his wand.

Suddenly with a blast that knocked Harry backwards off his feet, a bright, powerful looking spell shot from the tip of Harry's wand. Harry caught a surprised expression on Fred's face before the spell hit the twin and knocked Fred over like a bowling pin.

Harry scrambled to his feet and ran over to Fred. What had the spell done? It had born resemblance to the petrifying spell, but it was one of the most powerful spells Harry had ever seen. Just what had happened? One minute he hadn't been able to freeze a cat, and the next his spell was so powerful it blasted Fred over?

Fred was ramrod straight, a shocked expression frozen on his face. His limbs had snapped tightly to his sides and his joints had locked. George was checking his brother's pulse worriedly.

He looked up at Harry.

"You did it, Harry. He's fine, you've just petrified him. But that was a wicked spell! I've never seen one so powerful!" George said, excited.

___"Are you sure he's alright?"_

"Yeah, fine. Do you know what happened?"

___"Not really. It was sort of like there was a net of some sort, holding back my magic. But then, when I fired the spell, it was like the net broke and all my magic just exploded from me. I think using occlumency helped, a lot."_

"What happened!" Mrs. Weasley shouted as she ran out of the house.

"Mum, everything's fine. Harry finally managed a ___petrificus totalus_, and it was bloody powerful, Mum! You should've seen it!" George explained.

"Oh, Harry, that is wonderful! Oh, but Fred…here George, help me get him inside." Mrs. Weasley said.

___"Can I levitate him in? I've done smaller things, but I want to see if I can manage something larger."_

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips.

"Alright, Harry, but don't you make a mistake." Harry nodded and focused on making Fred float. With an ease that surprised him, Fred lifted straight from the ground and hovered at the level of Harry's wand. Harry exchanged shocked glances with George. Why had that been so easy? Was his analogy of the net more true than he had thought? Had something inside him been holding his power back, but now had released his magic?


	18. Doubted Love

I don't own Harry Potter...duh...

...

Once Mrs. Weasley had successfully unfrozen Fred, and Fred had congratulated Harry on his success, Harry quietly retreated up to Ron's room. He needed to write a letter to a certain bushy-haired brainiac.

Getting out his wizarding writing supplies then dipping his quill in his inkpot, Harry started to write his letter to Hermione.

___Dear Hermione,_

___I hope you've been having a good time with your parents. I have a bit of news._

___I was practicing _petrificus totalus___ on Fred just a few minutes ago, and I did it! Actually, I think I did more than that. I know that the spell knocks the victim off his feet, but my spell practically blasted Fred over as if it were a sort of harmless blasting spell. I was actually scared about what my spell had done. Thankfully, it does seem to have just been a petrifying spell, but it was the most powerful I've ever seen, and I think the most powerful anyone here has seen, too. _

___The thing is, I've been feeling as if something is holding back my magic. When I try to cast a spell, it's like my power swirls around inside me, trying to find some escape, but only a tiny amount trickles through to my wand. I have no idea what it is (or was). When I cast that petrifying spell at Fred I felt like that something snapped, and all my built up power came out in one massive surge._

___After this whole thing happened, I levitated Fred into the house. I know that this in itself is major progress. But what gets me is that I had absolutely no trouble in casting and controlling the spell. It almost felt easier than when I could speak. The one thing I've connected to it is this: that time I didn't feel anything holding me back. _

___Do you have any ideas on what happened? Is it even possible for something to block magical power?_

___Harry_

Harry waved his parchment in the air to completely dry the ink, then rolled it up and approached Hedwig, who was perched on the top of her cage. She hadn't done any mail delivering this summer because all of Harry's friends had been at the Burrow with him, so this was the first long flight she'd take the entire summer. When she saw him approaching, she shifted her weight from one foot to another in excitement.

Harry attached the letter to her leg, and only then remembered one crucial detail of sending messages by owl.

The owl needed to be told who to deliver to.

Harry's shoulders slumped. He was going to have to find a way to send post without Hedwig. But for now, he'd just have to get someone to tell her to go to Hermione for him.

Harry motioned Hedwig to wait and trudged down the many stairs to the sitting room. Here, Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny were gathered around, finally seriously working on homework. Harry still had to do his, and he was going to try to do it very soon. He hadn't done it before because he hadn't been able to cast the spells.

Everyone heard him coming down, so when Harry reached the bottom of the stairs everyone was watching him. Harry shifted, a little nervously. This was just about the first time he needed to ask help because of his disability. He took a deep breath. They'd understand; these were his closest friends. They wouldn't tease him.

"___Can someone help me send a letter?" _Harry signed in a rush.

Ron didn't get why Harry was asking help to send a letter; and the twins were a little slow to understand, but they did realize after a couple seconds. Ginny, however, understood instantly, and hopped up from the floor.

"Of course, Harry. Who to?"

"___Hermione."_ Harry signed, turning back to Ginny so she could see his hands as he lead the way upstairs. By now all of them had signs made up to represent themselves, so that they did not have to finger-spell all their names. It was a lot more convenient.

"Why does he need help to send a letter?" Ron asked from downstairs, presumably speaking to the twins.

"Because he can't tell the owl who to deliver to." George replied.

"You bloody idiot." Fred added. Ron's cry of indignation rang through the house.

"Did you tell her about that magic you did earlier?" Ginny asked, and Harry nodded, not really wanting to sign while going up the stairs. He had to walk backwards in order for Ginny to see his signs, so it could actually be dangerous.

That was how sign language worked. The person Harry was trying to communicate had to firstly understand sign language, which wasn't very likely, second, be facing him, and thirdly, had to actually be willing to watch his hands. Harry also had his limitations. Since he had to use his hands, he couldn't be carrying anything, couldn't be flying on a broom, couldn't be climbing, couldn't be doing anything while signing. It just wasn't possible.

When they reached Ron and Harry's room, Harry turned back around to face Ginny.

"___Thanks. I really didn't want to have to explain this."_

"No problem, Harry, I understand." Ginny said, giving Harry a sympathetic smile.

"___I really appreciate it, Ginny. Could you just tell Hedwig to go to Hermione? She's dying to get out, and I've already attached the letter."_

"Hedwig, you have to take Harry's letter to Hermione." Ginny told the snowy owl. Hedwig looked at Harry with wide eyes. Why was her wizard not telling her who to deliver to?

"___Ginny, tell her that I'm…I'm not going to be able to tell her where to go anymore. She can listen to you. You…can tell her a sort of story of what happened, if you want...I think she would understand."_

Ginny smiled sadly at Harry, and turned back to Hedwig.

"Hedwig, Harry just told me what to tell you. He's not going to be able to tell you who to go to anymore. You've noticed he''s been quiet, haven't you?" Ginny smiled at the bird, even while she wiped a tear from her eye.

"Well, he told me that I should tell you who to deliver to now, since you don't understand his new language. Alright? Now, that letter needs to go to Hermione, okay?" Hedwig blinked slowly at Ginny, then Harry. Harry thought that the owl's eyes widened a little, and then Hedwig swooped over and perched on his shoulder. She nipped at his ear and uttered a soft hoot, and then spread her wings and flew out of the window.

"They really do understand, don't they?" Ginny asked, as she gazed out of the window Hedwig had gone through. Harry came up beside her and nodded.

"___She's always seemed to understand what I said…"_ Harry didn't finish, just staring out the window with Ginny, who had been watching his hands. She wrapped her arm around his waist and squeezed him.

"Don't get depressed, Harry. She had to have learned English somehow. Maybe we can ask the owner of the Magical Menagerie whether she could be taught sign language, or at least parts of it so you can still send your letters.""

Harry didn't sign anything in response to that, just stood with her beside him, staring outside. After a minute or two, he broke away and turned to face Ginny with a worried expression.

"___Why do you still love me, Ginny?" _This question had been nagging him off and on since his birthday. Why did she still love him, when he couldn't whisper in her ear while holding her close, couldn't tell her the things she deserved to hear, couldn't even tell her that he loved her, at least not with the emotion he felt.

Ginny simply looked astounded at his question.

"Why…why wouldn't I?" She stammered out.

"___I can't even tell you that I love you! I can't tell…can't tell…you anything…"_ Finally the months of coping with being silent caught up to him, and he broke down in sobs. He covered his face with his hands as his shoulders heaved. He sobs, as ever, were not heard apart from large gasps of air. Hearing the proof of his mutilation only helped to distress him further, and increase the flow of tears. Why had it happened? It had been a pure accident; Bellatrix hadn't even known he'd been there! Why did that spell hit him, of all the other places it could have gone?

He felt Ginny's arms circle around him, and she pulled him close. He felt her hands rubbing circles on his back, and her head resting on his shoulder.

"It's okay, Harry, let it out. It's okay, it's okay." She soothed.

Ginny held him until he calmed down enough to steady his breathing, when he pulled away and wiped his eyes.

"___Why Ginny? Why do you still love me, even after seeing everything I can't do now? I don't even sound like a normal person when I laugh, or cry. How can you still love me?"_

"Harry, the fact that you can't speak doesn't make you any less you. True, there are things that you can''t do now, or that may seem a little different from other people. But you are still Harry, the Harry I love. Can't you see that? Would my love, even in sixth year before all this happened, have actually truly been love if I abandoned you when you need me most? Your personality hasn't changed, Harry. You are still the honest, loving, self-depreciating boy I met before my first year. And that is what matters."

"___But…don't you want to hear certain things? Don't you want to hear that I love you? And I mean really _hear___ it, not…not see it!"_

"Harry, I know that you love me. And no matter what you say, love is proven not through words, but through actions. Someone could say that they loved me, but then they could go and do something to completely contradict that statement. Words aren't what matters.""

"___But don't you want someone who can do everything an ordinary wizard can? I'm handicapped!"_

"You will function just as normally as any other wizard, Harry. True, there are obstacles you will have to overcome, but that is the thing. You will overcome them. And I'm going to help you."

"___But…"_ Ginny stopped his protest by gently covering his fidgeting hands with hers, just like laying a finger on someone's lips.

"If you still don't believe me, then let me prove it to you through my actions. I'm not going to leave you, Harry, and that is that."" Harry shook off her hands and didn't look at her as he replied.

"___You deserve someone better."_

"There ___is_ no one better, Harry. Not for me."

Harry couldn't respond, he was too full of emotion. Ginny waited for him to collect himself.

Finally, in a halting manner, he signed his reply.

"___I love you, Ginny. More than you could know."_

She smiled. "And I love you too. Now you just have to believe that."

...

For the rest of the day, Harry put his swirling emotions regarding Ginny out of his mind, in favor of practicing various magical spells, curses, hexes, and jinxes. Consistent with his evolving theory that something had been holding back his magic, he was now just as proficient in magic after just a few tries as he had been before Dumbledore's murder. It seemed like he had to get warmed up to performing a spell before it actually became easy, but it was still a remarkable change from his halting progress of before, and using occlumency techniques greatly increased the power of his spell.

By dinnertime he had ___enervate_, ___reparo_, ___obliviate_, ___alo homora_, and various other spells he had learned over the years back at his disposal.

Even though he was thrilled that magic once again came easily to him, he was worried over his theory. If something had been blocking his magic, had it been there all his life, or had it recently developed? Was it a simple obstacle that most wizards trying to learn silent magic encountered, or was it unique to him? And, had it truly gone? If it returned Harry would once again have to spend weeks mastering a single spell, and he didn't want to go back to that.

He pushed his questions into a dark corner of his mind as he made his way downstairs for dinner.

Everyone was just beginning to go to the table, and Harry joined them in the usual scramble to find a seat. He slid into the space next to Ron, and then Ginny pushed George out of the way in order to take the other space besides Harry. She smiled brightly at him, and he smiled tentatively back.

In a few minutes they all had heaping amounts of food stacked on their plates, and conversations had started between bites. Harry ignored all of it until he heard his name, and he looked up from his food. Everyone was staring at him.

Instead of putting his fork down to sign, he sent a look around the table that clearly asked, ___what_?

"We were wondering if you'd made any more progress in your magic, Harry." Mrs. Weasley informed him gently.

His surprise must have shown on his face.

"Don't look so surprised, Harry!" George scolded.

"We know that every time you vanish up to that room you're practicing magic." Fred added. Seeing that this was not a conversation he could use faces to work his way through, Harry set down his fork with a sigh.

"___I'm not quite sure about the details…it's complicated. But I am nearly as proficient in magic as I was before I was muted. It felt like something was holding my magic back, and every time I fired a successful spell it felt like whatever that something was it gave way a little more. Then when I fired that spell today it felt like that something finally just broke, and all my stored up magic flooded out. Whatever that something was, I don't feel it anymore. I'm not having any trouble performing magic, even though it is silent."_ Considering that a satisfactory explanation, Harry once again picked up his fork and resumed the serious business of eating.

"What was…" Ron began, but, without looking up, Harry finger-spelled with his unoccupied hand, ___"Eat.""_

That put an end to the conversation. Temporarily, at least.

******A.N. **I did have one reviewer say that he thought Ginny would have more trouble accepting harry as a mute, so I sort of just swapped that around. Frankly, I don't see how someone can truly love someone else if they abandon them when they need them most. So instead, Harry is the one having the doubts, being the overly humble boy I think that he is represented as in canon. So yeah...review, please!


	19. The-Boy-Who-?

I don't own Harry Potter…creators of the awesome fanfiction, recognize the fact already!

...

In two days it would be time for them to return to Hogwarts. Two days until Harry would have to face his peers, despite the fact that he most definitely did not feel ready. Even though he had been practicing all the spells he could draw from his memory, he still did not feel up to the task of facing the Slytherins, who were bound to do more than taunt him.

He was happy that he would be able to see Hermione again, however. Hopefully she would have some ideas on his "magic block," as he had come to call it.

He did feel that there was one more thing he should do before "facing the world."

Harry had so far refused to read any of the issues of the ___Daily Prophet_ that the Weasleys had had delivered to the Burrow. He didn't want to see what the rest of the world was saying about the latest drama surrounding their "chosen one." But if Harry was going to Hogwarts, it would be a good idea to know what the latest rumors concerning himself were.

Harry knew that Mr. Weasley had been saving issues of the ___Daily Prophet_ for Harry to read, when he was ready. So that night Harry asked Mr. Weasley if he might have the papers.

"You do know that the ___Prophet_ has been having a field day concerning you, Harry. Are you sure you want to read all this?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"___I need to know what people have been saying about me before I get to Hogwarts._"

"I understand. The papers are in one of the kitchen cupboards; Molly will show you which one. I've only saved the pages regarding you, Harry. You won't have to sort through everything." Harry nodded his thanks and entered the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley pointed him to a small cupboard containing the entire wizarding world's gossip on their "hero."

Harry gathered the papers and retreated to Ron's room. He didn't want to read these with everyone watching.

He settled on his cot and decided to read the papers from oldest to newest. Thankfully, all the newest papers had just been piled on top of the previous ones, so all Harry had to do was flip the stack and start reading.

The first papers weren't too bad. They simply reported that there were rumors that Harry had been severely injured in the attack on Hogwarts which resulted in the murder of Albus Dumbledore. Then they confirmed the rumors, and then, the true facts leaked out. All this had happened as a result from students writing letters to their parents, Harry was sure.

The prophet reported that Harry had been made "dumb." Harry scowled at the name for his disability. He didn't like the fact that it applied to him, but if he could choose what people called him, he preferred "mute."

Next they started to get vicious as they realized that their precious Boy-Who-Lived couldn't do magic. They felt cheated, Harry thought, that he couldn't be their stupid champion for them. Tough for them, he thought viciously. They could do some of their own fighting.

Rita Skeeter even made a joke about his handicap! She said that, "Harry Potter has been made dumb, in the physical sense. Let us hope it does not also apply to his mental state!" Harry tore that paper to shreds.

Then, after the reporters had gotten their insults out, came the speculation. What had happened in the attack to make Harry "dumb"? Was it a spell? Had Harry accidentally cursed himself? Or had a death eater gotten a hold of him and tortured him? The press seemed to be leaning towards the "Harry made a mistake in the attack, leading to his temporary capture by death eaters, who tortured him until they took away his ability to speak."

Then the insults returned, as the ___Prophet _painted him as incompetent. They compared him to squibs, saying that, while he did have magic, he could not access it, and was therefore useless.

The last paper contained Harry's next new nickname: "The Boy-who-Squibbed." Harry didn't even have to look at the author of the article to know it had been written by Rita Skeeter. Harry tossed all of the papers into a crumpled heap by his bed. He clenched his fists.

"___Do they not realize what these do to me? Don't they think that maybe, I'm actually just human? Don''t they realize how difficult they make my poor, miserable life? That's just brilliant. The Slytherins are going to have a party, calling me all sorts of names. ''Boy who Squibbed.' I want to hex that Skeeter until she runs all the way to the North Pole and stays there, for fear of returning to face me again!"_

His hissed rant over, Harry finally realized that the pile of ___Prophets_ had caught fire from his anger, and the flames were beginning to lick his cot. Hastily Harry shot a jet of water at the small fire, extinguishing them.

He sat on his cot for a second, getting his breath back from his shock. Then he realized something: his wand was still in his back pocket. He had, in his shock, performed wandless magic! Harry tried to lift a nearby book wandlessly, but to no avail. But he knew that he could do it. He had the magical power in him to allow him access and control of his magic without a wand. He''d just have to work at it, like he had with the silent magic.

His excitement abating, Harry went back to pondering his imminent return to the public eye. He was unsure of quite a few things, including his relationship with Ginny, the treatment he would receive from the Slytherins, and how he could answer questions in class without a translator.

But he was certain of one thing: returning to Hogwarts would be the emotional equivalent of entering a tornado filled with shards of glass.

...

That evening Harry had once again been roped into playing chess with Ron. This time, however, they used Harry's new Parseltongue chess set, and the pieces gave Harry tactical advice. As a result from this private guidance, Harry managed to hold his own longer than he ever had before. Even though he eventually lost, He counted the game as a personal victory.

Then Fred put on the Wizarding Wireless, and they all gathered around the radio to finish homework.

Harry was working on his transfiguration homework. He had to change a carpet into a platter, and he wasn't making any progress. He had never seen the spell worked before, and had no idea what the transformations should look like.

What if he just ditched the spell and just concentrated on what he wanted to do? According to the theories in his silent magic book, the spell was supposed to just act as a link in the mind between the intent and the action. You didn't really need the spell, so long as you knew what you wanted to do.

His mind made up, Harry shoved the incantation to the back of his mind and instead pictured the small carpet his wand was aimed at morphing into a wooden platter.

He pictured the transformation several times, before deciding that he had the image firmly pictured and could now put his magic behind it.

Keeping the image of the morphing carpet in his mind, Harry ___pushed_ his magic outwards at the carpet.

Nothing happened.

Harry frowned and was about to try again when the carpet suddenly shrunk. Then it changed from a circular carpet into an oval. Harry realized that the carpet was going through the exact stages of change that he had envisioned.

Now the edges lifted, and the carpet color changed from deep red to a wooden brown. Then the grain of the wood appeared, shooting from the center out to the edges.

And now, instead of a slightly tatty, red carpet; a smooth yet plain wooden platter lay in front of Harry.

Harry stared in amazement. It had happened just as he had imagined it! He couldn't have envisioned the transformation so accurately, could he?

He frowned in concentration, having decided that he would now transform the platter back to a carpet. But this time, he wouldn't focus on the process of transformation so much as the finished item.

Now he envisioned the platter just suddenly changing back into the same red carpet, without the whole process of gradual changes.

Again, he sort of shoved his magic out of him, through his wand, at the platter.

But now the platter had returned to being a carpet.

Harry performed the change several more times, all with the same degree of abruptness. The carpet changed into the platter, and back, about three times, before Harry realized he had an audience.

Everyone was gathered around him, watching the changing carpet/platter fixatedly.

Harry stopped the transformations and placed his wand in his back pocket.

"How did you do that, Harry?" Ron asked, wonder in his tone.

"___I sort of just thought about precisely what I wanted to happen, then I let the magic flow out and it just did what I wanted it to do."_

"You didn't use the incantation?" Ginny asked bemusedly.

"___No, magic works through intent. The words themselves don't have power; they just sort of help your mind focus on what you want to happen. All you need is to focus really well on what you want, instead of the words.""_

"Where did you learn that, Harry?" George asked.

"___My silent magic textbook."_

"Mind if we borrow it?" Fred requested.

"___Not at all. Just send it back to me at Hogwarts when you've finished."_

Ginny had gotten her wand out and was attempting the same piece of magic that Harry had just performed. He tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention.

"___You know that that is seventh-year magic, right?"_

"Yes, I know, but I can still try it."

"___What about your trace?"_

"The ministry won't know that it was me. This spell was removed from the trace list, so as long as you and Ron are here, they won't know that it was me who did it."

Ginny went back to her attempts to duplicate the magic Harry had done, and the others dissipated back to their own homework assignments or personal prank objects plans, as in the case of the twins.

...

The next night, Harry had finished his homework and decided to start reading the book Hermione had gotten him on Parselmouths and Parselmagic. It was extremely interesting.

Even though Parselmouths were rare, there had been enough of them in the course of history to scare the other wizards badly. The main reason for this fear was the sheer power that Parsel magic possessed, if performed correctly. Parseltongue – when spoken by Parselmouth wizards - was the only true magical language, and as such was the only language that contained actual magical power within the words.

Snakes didn't perform magic when they spoke because they didn't have magic in them. But when their language was spoken by a species that hadn't been made to speak it – humans – magic got involved.

The only reason why magic didn't occur whenever a wizard spoke Parseltongue was because they usually didn't have the intent of performing magic. Otherwise one could do anything with Parseltongue. There were no specific spells, only pieces of magic that had become notorious because they were used prominently by Parselmouths in history.

One such piece of magic was first used by Salazar Slytherin. He evidently called all nearby snakes to him during a duel in Africa, and commanded them to attack his opponent. Of course, venomous cobras had been amidst the called serpents, and they killed the wizard Slytherin had been dueling.

There were other pieces of notorious Parselmagic that had been used by dark wizards, as well. Unfortunately, most Parselmouths ___had_ been dark, and so Parsel magic had gained its reputation as dark magic. But one could also perform healing spells, household spells, and anything else that was within the limits of magic with Parseltongue.

The one drawback to Parselmagic, Harry's book said, was that it was impossible to perform silently. Because of the fact that it was the actual words that held magic within them, Parselmagic just didn't exist in a silent form. So, when dueling with another Parselmouth, one did not have the element of surprise that was the main advantage of silent magic. But, most of the time this didn't matter, as it was rare that two Parselmouths dueled.

There was only one recorded instance when two Parselmouths fought. It had been in ancient times, before even the Hogwarts founders. The evidence of the encounter had been found within an Egyptian Pharaoh's pyramid, written in Hieroglyphics.

Harry read the loose translation of the text.

"___Pharaoh Tutankhamen was sent to the afterlife by a cloaked man, with power matching the Pharaoh's own. They fought for the right of the Egyptian throne, both commanding the snakes. The cloaked man injured the Pharaoh before being driven away. The Pharaoh''s injuries killed him after a few weeks, but the cloaked man has not returned."_

Harry vaguely remembered "King Tut" from his muggle school. He recalled that the young king's body had had all sorts of weird deformities, such as club feet. Harry wondered if the deformities had been caused by this battle that the apparent Parselmouth had fought.

And who had the cloaked man been?

He also wondered why the muggles hadn't found the ancient text suspicious. Maybe the wizards had covered it up? But the text would be re-read…maybe they had cast a notice-me-not charm on the section of text and went back occasionally to renew the charm.

Harry found the answer to the question in his next paragraph of reading.

A curse had been placed on the tomb, and even though the majority of the muggles did not believe in magic, the tomb had been sealed, and the curse on the tomb was widely known.

There were suspicions as to who the man had been. One of the most prevalent theories was that the man had been an exiled minor dark wizard by the name of Morgor who had been defeated by a young Merlin in Europe, and who had decided to try to garner power in some other region of the earth.

Harry closed his book as he yawned. He was exhausted, and needed to get some sleep in preparation for the chaos of the next day. But, he vowed to himself that he would keep reading about the Parselmouths. He needed to know exactly what reputation they had; all he had known about them had been what Hermione had told him back in second year. That they were hated and considered dark. That had been it.

Another reason to study Parselmagic was the fact that Voldemort would surely have looked into it and at the very least dabbled in it. Harry was aiming to at least be on even footing with Voldemort. Knowing how to manipulate Parselmagic would be an excellent ability to have in the inevitable duel.


	20. Return to Home

I do...*yawn*...do not own Harry Potter.

...

The next morning was hectic, as usual. Just as they had all finally piled into the car, Ginny remembered that she had forgotten to bring her pygmy puff. Then Ron remembered that he hadn't fed Errol, so he ran off to do that. Then Ginny got back to the car and asked where Ron had got to, and then gone to fetch him. Then Ron came back, asking why Ginny hadn't come back yet.

Recognizing the potential for a never-ending cycle, Mr. Weasley had told Ron to get in the car. Then the senior Weasley rand off to find Ginny, using the point me spell to find her quickly.

Eventually, they all were together in the car and ready to go. Mr. Weasley stepped on the gas and sped off to King's Cross station.

There were only ten minutes to spare once they'd reached the station, so Mrs. Weasley shrunk all of their trunks and gave them to Ron, so that he could bring them back to the normal size once they'd gotten on the train.

They entered platform nine and three quarters out of breath from running all the way from the car and through the station.

Harry didn't even notice the stares of absolutely everyone as he signed a quick goodbye to the elder Weasleys and the twins, and then scrambled onto the train with Ron and Ginny.

The train started moving just as Harry, Ron, and Ginny found Hermione sitting in a compartment with Neville and Luna.

Harry led the way into the compartment. It was one of the larger ones, and would fit him with Ron and Ginny easily along with the three already there.

"Nice of you to join us." Hermione commented acerbically as they plopped into the seats and Ron brought all their trunks back to their original sizes.

"_Sorry__…you know what it is like trying to leave the Burrow."_ Harry signed, grinning. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Neville and Luna staring at his quickly gesturing hands.

"Yes, I suppose I do." Hermione replied, a smile tugging at her lips.

"_Anyway, hi."_

"Yeah, hello." Ron greeted everyone as levitated the trunks up into the holding racks.

"Hey." Neville said, still eying Harry. Even Luna had noticed Harry's strange gestures and hadn't drifted back into her dream world.

"Hello. What were you just doing, Harry?" Luna asked.

"_Hermione, could you translate?" _Harry asked, facing Hermione to make sure she got his message clearly. She nodded.

"_It's called sign language. It's how I speak now."_ Hermione dutifully translated Harry's words.

"So, wait. Harry, you're actually talking…in a way?" Neville asked. Harry nodded.

"Myself, Harry, and most of the Weasleys have learned it. It is a language that muggles invented for the deaf." Hermione clarified.

"_Hermione wants to teach the entire Gryffindor house how to use it."_ Harry signed, grinning. This time Ron translated.

"Well, I'll learn it. I want to be able to talk to you, Harry." Neville said.

"I will too. Maybe the other Ravenclaws will be interested." Luna commented. She was gazing out the window.

"How have you been doing, Harry? There is so much in the papers about you. Is it true you can't use your magic anymore?" Neville asked. No one spoke.

Harry raised his eyebrow and drew his wand. Realizing that Ron had forgotten to stow Hedwig in her cage up on the trunk rack, Harry levitated his owl's cage and slid it onto the rack.

Neville and Luna stared.

"Silent magic…" Neville said. Even though the sixth years got a start in silent magic, very few ever accomplished it. Harry was probably the only student in Hogwarts who could perform silent magic to such a degree that it was practical.

"How did you do it, Harry? I don't think you could do it last semester." Luna said, the Ravenclaw in her showing itself.

"_I couldn't. I studied occlumency techniques as well, and they helped a lot."_ Ginny took her turn to translate, and then added, "He doesn't even need to think the incantation. He just focuses on what he wants to do and it happens."

"So you could transfigure anything into nearly anything?" Luna questioned. There were so many transfiguration spells that it was impossible to remember all of them.

"_I guess." _Harry signed, and Hermione once again translated.

"Could you show us?" Neville asked.

Harry grabbed a book beside Hermione and aimed his wand at it. It took a few seconds for him to get his focus sharp enough, but he transfigured it into a small trunk.

"Harry…everyone is expecting you to be less than a first year. Shock waves are going to go through Hogwarts when everyone sees you doing this type of thing." Neville said. Hermione simply looked put out that her book had been changed into something that didn't contain words.

Harry changed the little trunk back and handed the book to Hermione.

"_I was reading the book you gave me, Hermione. It was really interesting."_

"I'm glad. Could I read it after you've finished?" Hermione replied. Harry nodded.

The next few hours were spent in conversation.

Neville brought up the traditional topic: who was going to teach Defense against the Dark Arts?

None of them had heard anything, not even a rumor. Harry personally hoped that McGonagall would bring Remus back, but seeing as how Remus had left of his own volition, Harry doubted the probability that he would come back. Moody was a possibility, but he now had a little bit of a reputation from fourth year when he had been impersonated by a death eater. The best guess Harry could make was that the teacher would be someone from the Order of the Phoenix. Specifically who, though, he couldn't guess.

Then they heard the snack trolley coming, and Harry's stomach rumbled. Ron fished a few knuts out of his pocket and counted them, trying to figure out how many sweets he could buy. Neville, Ginny, and Harry followed his example, drawing from their pockets their knuts. Hermione just buried her nose in her book, and Luna turned to stare dreamily out the window.

The trolley came around, pushed by the same little witch that had been doing the task since Harry could remember.

"Would you like anything, dearies?"

"I'll have a chocolate frog." Ron said, handing the witch two knuts.

"Pumpkin Pastie, please." Ginny requested, also handing a few knuts over. The witch gave the treats out, and then Neville stepped up with Harry right behind him.

"I'll have a chocolate frog, Bertie Bot's every-flavor-beans, and a licorice wand, please." Neville said. He handed over seven knuts, and received his ordered sweets. He had turned back into the compartment as Harry stepped forward.

Then Harry realized that he needed a translator! The witch stared at him for a second.

"Do you want something, dear?" she asked. Harry had always liked her because she never seemed to notice that he was "The-Boy-Who-Lived" or "The Chosen One."

Thankfully Ginny recognized his predicament and stepped up next to him.

"What do you want, Harry?"

"_Three chocolate frogs, two pumpkin pasties, and a licorice wand, thanks."_ Harry signed, relieved. He still felt the usual twinge of guilt for having so much more money than the Weasleys, but it was overpowered by his thankfulness for Ginny.

Ginny put in the large order for him, and he produced a sickle, enough to cover his order and a little more. Considering the money, Harry handed it to the witch and then signed another message to Ginny.

"_Add in another chocolate frog."_

Harry got his heap of sweets and carried it back to his seat. His friends were already munching around him, and Hermione was eyeing his mountain of treats with disdain.

Harry picked out a chocolate frog and put it in Ginny's lap. She looked up at him.

"_Take it. I bought it for you."_

"I can't Harry, you bought it…"

"_I bought it for you." _Harry repeated. Ginny smiled and took the enchanted chocolate creation.

"I'll save it for later, okay?" she said, and Harry nodded, smiling.

The rest of the ride Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione taught Luna and Neville the basics of sign language, and had them finger-spelling before they all had to get changed into their Hogwarts robes.

Ten minutes after they had changed the train slowed, and they knew that they had arrived in Hogsmeade station. It was only then the Harry realized that the Slytherins hadn't been by to taunt him, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

But he knew that the peace wouldn't last for long.

As soon as they joined the throng of students leaving the train, people started to stop in their tracks and watch Harry pass. He tried as hard as he could to ignore the stares, but it was very hard to ignore the fact that the entire train was goggling at him.

He heard a few whispered comments.

"I'm surprised he even came for another year…"

"Why'd he come back? I thought he couldn't do magic anymore…"

"Boy-who-Squibbed…that was a good one."

Harry firmed his lips and tried to keep his face impassive as he passed through the younger students. Every student in the corridor had stopped to watch him. His friends were right behind him, glaring at the younger students. They were seventh years, after all. They presented an imposing picture to the younger years.

Ginny came up right beside Harry and took his hand in hers. He relaxed a little, and gave her a grateful smile.

After what seemed an eternity, they made it out of the train and entered the crowded station platform. Harry relaxed even more at the familiar sights and sounds. It was dark and Harry could remain anonymous to anyone who wasn't close.

"Firs' years, to me! Firs' years, this way!" Hagrid called, his lantern illuminating his huge form. Harry made a note to visit the half-giant as soon as he got the chance.

Harry and his friends made their way over to the carriages and found an empty one. They all managed to squeeze in, and then the thestral started up the road to Hogwarts.

Harry didn't talk with the others on the ride up. The darkness that cloaked his face and made him unrecognizable also cloaked his hands. His friends wouldn't be able to see what he was signing.

In a few minutes the thestral stopped outside the gates of Hogwarts. They all piled out of the cramped carriage and started up the walk to the castle, Harry's friends still talking. As they got closer to the castle light spilled over the road, and Harry began to take part in the conversation again. Ginny gave him another smile and brushed her hand against his. He smiled back.

Finally they entered the Entrance Hall, and Harry paused to take in the castle that he considered home. On the walls, all the familiar portraits waved and chatted amongst themselves, above him the staircases moved, and the hall was crowded with familiar faces.

Harry grinned. He was back, and anyone who thought that they could ruin his last year at Hogwarts was wrong.

He walked into the Great Hall with his friends at sat at the end of the Gryffindor Table closest to the doors, where the other seventh and sixth years had already gathered. Luna said her goodbyes and headed off to join the other Ravenclaws.

They continued to talk about meaningless little things, like who would captain the Slytherin quidditch team this year now that Marcus Flint had graduated, until Headmistress McGonagall stood up and took her place behind the podium.

"Attention please!" She called, not even using the sonorous charm. Her stern tone grabbed the attention of everyone present.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. As usual we will sort the first years before having our meal, so please wait just a bit longer."

Then Professor Flitwick came into the Great Hall, leading a procession of firsties taller than himself. He carried the sorting hat and a small stool, which he placed up besides McGonagall's podium.

The sorting hat sang its song, and the sorting then proceeded as usual, with each house applauding every time a first year was sorted into their house.

"Now that we have welcomed the newest students to Hogwarts, you may all eat." McGonagall announced, and she clapped her hands once. The usual succulent feast appeared on the tables, and McGonagall took her seat at the head table again.

Harry tapped Ron on the shoulder to take his attention away from the bowl of mashed potatoes.

"_Ask the others whether they've heard anything about who the new D-A-D-A teacher will be."_

"Hey, mates. Harry wants to know if there's any news about who the new DADA teacher will be." Ron announced.

"I haven't heard anything. I don't think anyone knows, and the seat at the head table is empty." Dean replied, looking at Harry.

"Maybe the teacher is late, like the Moody impersonator was in fourth year." Seamus commented.

"_I doubt it. They usually come on the train with everyone else."_ Harry signed, frowning. Ron translated.

"So, what are you doing Harry? Ron apparently understands you, but I don't think anyone else does." Seamus said. His tone wasn't mean, just curious.

"_Could you explain, Ron? I haven't even served myself yet." _Ron grumbled, but complied and explained the concept of sign language to their house mates. Harry, meanwhile, tuned out of the conversation and focused on the piles of food in front of him. Licking his lips, he gave himself heaping portions of all his favorites and dug in.

"You know that everyone in here is throwing glances at you, right Harry?" Dean said as he cast his own gaze around the room. Harry nodded and continued eating. It was easier to ignore the glances if he had something else to focus on.

"I don't know how you stand it, Harry. If people stared at me this much I'd go out of my mind." Seamus commented.

"_I sort of had no choice but to get used to it. Even you and Dean used to stare, remember?"_ Harry signed quickly, making sure that Ron caught it to translate, and then he resumed eating.

"Yeah, I guess so. It was sort of hard not to. You know, hearing about Harry Potter, vanquisher of You-Know-Who, and then meeting him and not knowing what to expect. It is a little hard to correlate you with the Harry Potter in stories." Lavender said, joining the conversation.

"_Well I didn't even know about magic until Hagrid came to bring me to Hogwarts. And even then I didn't know that I was famous until I reached Diagon Alley."_ Harry decided to eat faster. Maybe he could finish that big pile of potatoes before he had to say something again…or maybe not.

"Really? You must have been in shock!" Neville said. Harry nodded.

"_Yeah, I never realized that little, scrawny, me was famous. You have no idea__…but second, fourth, and fifth years have been the worst. What with being the heir of Slytherin, then getting all that publicity during the tournament, and then having the whole wizarding world think I was a loony liar…it was tough."_

"Yeah, sorry about all that. I know that I didn't help." Seamus said, and Dean nodded in agreement.

"_No, you didn't, but we're past that now. What do you think about this__…should I start up the DA again?"_

"No offense Harry, but…can you? I mean, can you still use magic?" Seamus asked tentatively. Harry smiled confidently and gestured to Neville, inviting the other boy to explain. Neville heartily did, describing Harry's display of silent magic on the train. Harry finally got enough time to finish his dinner.

"What about communication, Harry?" Dean asked.

"_At first Ron, Hermione, or Ginny will have to translate for me, like Ron is now. But hopefully enough people will want to learn sign language that I won't need a translator anymore."_

"Well, I'd come to the meetings. The DADA teacher still hasn't shown up, and if he's this late then I hate to think of what his classes will be like." Dean said.

"_I'll post a notice in the tower tomorrow then, after the school has seen proof that I can still use magic. I think they will need a little convincing after all the lies in the _Prophet_."_

**A.N.**

I had a roadtrip, so I got two chapters written and posted! So, please review in return!


	21. Common Room Notices

I don't own Harry Potter…la di daa daa.

…

The Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher never did show up that night. But, when making her announcements, McGonagall appeared totally unflustered, but solemn. She began with the usually announcements.

"Most of you _should_ know by now that the Forbidden Forest is named what it is for a reason. Please do not enter it.

"The list of banned items has once again been expanded, along with the expansion of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. All of their items are on the list, along with a few others. If you wish to check, the list will be hanging on Mr. Filch''s office door." She grew even more serious.

"With the death of Headmaster Dumbledore, this school is not quite as safe as it used to be. Please be aware of this fact. Safety precautions this year will include the cancellation of all Hogsmeade weekends" – everyone groaned – "and no student will go out on the grounds unless accompanied by at least two others, preferably including at least one fifth-year or above. No one will leave the grounds. To break any of these rules will place the entire school in danger, so please take these seriously, even if you take the other, long-standing rules less so.

"If you sight a Death Eater anywhere on or near the grounds, don't try to fight. Get back to the castle and raise the alarm. There are fighters more capable than you here; please realize that they are more capable of dealing with an attack than you." As she said this, the entire Great Hall was stone quiet.

"If you cannot run, or do not have time, then send sparks into the air. Tomorrow morning's classes have been delayed so that we can check that every student is capable of performing this spell. This signal, however, is a last resort. If we are being attacked then it would not be advisable to give away your position unless absolutely necessary." McGonagall paused for a moment, and Harry was sure that, like him, she was remembering the attack at the end of last year.

"Many of you have probably noticed that the chair usually occupied by our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is empty. Because of the war with You-Know-Who, I have not been able to find a teacher for this position. Anyone with any fighting experience is too busy fighting to teach. Because Defense is such a crucial subject, especially now, I do not intend to have the classes cancelled. For now, I will personally teach these classes.

"As I am now the Headmistress, I have had to decide on the new Gryffindor Head of House. Trust me; this has not been an easy task, as I have enjoyed guiding all of our young Lions…" Here McGonagall smiled fondly. "…although some of you are quite troublesome. In the end, I chose Professor Hagrid. Please make him welcome in his new position." Everyone excluding the Slytherins clapped politely as Hagrid stood and waved to the Gryffindor table.

"I also have had to find a new Transfiguration professor. Thankfully since transfiguration does not require any skill in fighting, I was able to find you all a Professor, though he is currently running quite late. I expect him to be here by tomorrow morning, at least.

"In the morning all years, except first years, will stay in the Great Hall after breakfast in order to be cleared as far as their knowledge of our signal spell. First years will all be taught this spell in charms, whenever that takes place for each individual.

"There is only one more thing. Most of you know what happened to one of our students in the attack last year." Harry ducked his head. He wished that McGonagall had warned him she would be speaking about him.

"Harry Potter cannot speak. Please do not take advantage of this, while he learns to adjust."

Harry, suddenly feeling like his situation couldn't be left like the Headmistress had painted it, whirled to Hermione and signed frantically to her.

_"Stand up, and tell them that I'm not helpless!"_

"Will Harry still be the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team?" Cho Chang, now the Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, asked loudly.

"That is entirely up to Mr. Potter."

Harry stood, drawing Hermione up with him.

_"Tell them yes, I'm still Quidditch Captain!"_ He signed, not caring that the entire school was watching, mystified by his gestures.

Hermione cleared her throat nervously. "Are you sure you don't want to tell McGonagall this in private, Harry?" He nodded vehemently.

"Harry says he'll still captain the Gryffindor Quidditch team." Hermione announced. The Gryffindors cheered.

Harry elbowed her in the ribs.

_"Tell them I can still do magic! Please!"_

"He said? How could he say anything? I thought he was dumb?" Pansy Parkinson shouted. The comment was obviously enough to get Hermione to overcome her nerves as Harry clenched his fists at the derogatory term.

"Harry can still communicate, just not in the way we are all used to. He uses sign language now; some of you probably heard about it at the end of last year. I will be putting together study groups for those who wish to learn it; notices will be posted in the library. Also, Harry…" here Hermione glanced at her friend, who was still annoyingly signing her, telling her to make sure that they didn't think he was helpless.

"…would like me to tell you all that he can defend himself. He is still able to perform magic, despite what the _Daily Prophet _has been saying. They never even came to see Harry himself; there is no reason to believe anything they have said regarding him. All of it is stories. Now, Harry, does that satisfy you?" Harry nodded and sat back down, finally. Hermione also resumed her seat and then glanced around, blushing at the realization of what she had just done.

McGonagall, still up at the podium, cleared her throat and awkwardly resumed speaking.

"As I was saying, I believe that is all. You may all go to your dormitories; first years follow your prefects. Goodnight." Then she hurried away through a back teacher's door, and was followed by the other members of staff.

Hermione and Ron both stood.

"First years! Follow me!" Hermione called. Harry stood with her and Ron as they gathered the tiny little first years around them.

The children stared at Harry with unconcealed curiosity, but none of them spoke to him. Hermione shepherded them out of the Great Hall and up to the Gryffindor Portrait Hole, where the other, older Gryffs had already gathered and were waiting to hear what the password was.

Hermione, with Ron trailing behind, pushed her way through the throng. At the portrait she turned and addressed the crowd of Gryffindors.

"The password will be changing weekly now. Please do not write it down. I'm afraid you'll have to rely on your memories." Hermione gave them all a small smile, and fished a small paper from her pocket, presumably with the new password on it.

"This week's password is, 'protection.'"

The fat lady opened her portrait silently, watching the stream of students flow past without a word. It was uncharacteristic of her, Harry though. But then again, he supposed that the war could get to even the portraits.

Harry stuck closely to Neville, who was the last person in the ragged line to get in the common room besides Harry. Neville noticed Harry's proximity and turned to him.

"Don't worry, Harry, you won't be left out here. I'll make sure. We'll have to talk to McGon…I mean, Hagrid, to see if we can figure out some way for you to get into the common room by yourself." Neville said.

"It's weird that Hagrid is our head of house now. I can't believe it isn't McGonagall anymore. But Hagrid'll be good, I think. He is brave, that's certain, working in the Forbidden Forest…" Neville trailed off and shivered in fright. Harry. Having long ago decided that finger-spelling was much too tedious to carry out a conversation with, just gave Neville a small smile and a nod in reply. Neville seemed satisfied, though.

"McGonagall has got one heck of a workload this year, don't you think? I mean, she's just getting herself installed as headmistress and now she's got to teach classes, all because of the war. At least she doesn't still have to manage Transfiguration. I wonder who the new teacher for that will be? Someone from the Order, maybe?" Neville continued to chatter as they drew nearer to the portrait.

_"U know order?"_ Harry finger-spelled, surprised that Neville knew about what was supposed to be a secret organization.

"Yeah, my parents were in it. I heard from my gran that it got started up again, back in fifth year. Your parents were in it too, Harry." Neville said.

_"I know. I been in headquarters._" Harry signed, again having to spell out each word individually.

Neville goggled at Harry for a second.

"I should have known, you being you. Do Ron and Hermione know, too? Have they been? When did you find out?"

_"Yes, yes, summer pre-fifth._"

"Wow, you've known that long? Have you joined? Do you think I could?"

_"Inside."_ Harry finger-spelled, as they had reached the portrait hole and Neville hadn't realized it. Harry led the way in, and hearing Neville following behind.

Hermione was already giving the first years a lecture on the basics: going over the school rules, how they weren't allowed to join the Quidditch teams yet, and how if they had any problems to come to find her or Ron, or one of the other younger prefects from sixth or fifth year.

Once she had finished that, she looked up, spotted Harry watching her talk while Ron stood back awkwardly, and she smiled.

"Now, first years, I know that you heard the Headmistress's announcements, but I'd like you to meet Harry." Harry's eyes widened and he unconsciously took a step back as the first years turned to look at him as if they were a single entity, all moving in synch with each other. Then the older years, realizing that something was happening, turned to look at Harry as well.

Harry felt pinned to the wall.

_"Hermione, make them stop. Everyone is staring."_ Harry signed, glancing around. Hermione just smiled.

"Now, Harry is our Quidditch team captain, so if you ever want to get on the team he's the one you have to impress. And, he is also quite shy, so please try not to stare at him." Immediately all the first years made themselves look anywhere in the common room other than Harry, although they did sneak a few glances at him. His shoulders relaxed and he made his way over to one of the armchairs by the fire, where some of the older years were hanging out. A few were even frantically completing summer homework!

Harry flopped into a plush chair and thought about what a schedule he'd have this year. He not only had to keep up with classes, silent magic, advance even farther in sign-language, and captain the quidditch team; he'd be re-starting the DA, Hermione was probably going to wrap him into her sign language study groups, and the Slytherins were going to be a nuisance. Not to mention that he couldn't get into the common room without someone else, couldn't play chess without causing panic over Parseltongue, and wasn't going to be able to go anywhere for the first month or so without being stared at by absolutely everyone.

Harry decided he should plan out the Quidditch schedule first, and then plan out the DA. Realizing he needed his writing supplies, but not wanting to have to trudge up to the dorm to get it, Harry took out his wand.

The students around him were suddenly watching him. They had heard the stories in the _Prophet_; Harry wasn't supposed to be able to perform magic anymore, even if Hermione had said differently in the Great Hall.

Harry resolutely ignored them, on concentrated on summoning his quills, inks, and parchments scrolls. Even though he couldn't see any effect, he could _feel_ his magic working, and he knew that the supplies he had summoned were on their way.

Harry relaxed back into the chair and put away his wand. The students around him frowned in confusion.

Then a clump of writing supplies whizzed through the air and plopped themselves in Harry's lap. The students stared in astonishment, while Harry calmly ignored them and set himself up to do some organization.

"How did he do that…"

"A multiple summoning charm…"

"Must be difficult…"

"Completely silent…"

"Best magic…"

"Thought he was…"

"Squib…"

In just a few seconds the entire Common Room knew exactly what Harry had just done. Everyone was talking excitedly to their friends, discussing Harry's magic. The only exception was Harry himself, who sat oblivious to it all while he planned out his hectic year.

"Did you not believe her when she told you he could perform magic?" Ron shouted, to the room at large. He had apparently become fed-up with being pestered about his friend's magical abilities, and had so decided to settle things once and for all.

"Hermione told everyone that Harry can still do magic. Well, all you've just seen is confirmation. So stop gossiping about it." Ron said. Harry, although he appeared to not notice any of this, was actually listening intently. He was glad that Ron had put a stop to the gossiping.

Now that Angelina Johnson had graduated, not all of the Gryffindors seemed quite as protective of Harry as they had been. She had seemed to get people to rally under her, for her cause, which had been, "protect Harry at all costs." Because she had inspired them, they had rallied around Harry. But now, she wasn't here anymore, and no one was declaring that Harry needed protecting and it was their job, as Gryffindors, to do it.

But, it didn't matter too much. Harry was glad that he really didn't need protection anymore.

It still would have been nice to have some more support, though.

…

Eventually, Harry decided to hold the Quidditch try-outs the next week on Monday. He had two Chaser positions open, as well as the two beaters. Ron was keeper, Ginny was a chaser, and Harry himself, of course, was still the seeker. Harry wrote out his notice for the try-outs.

_Gryffindor Quidditch Team Try-Outs_

_The positions open will be two Chasers and both Beaters. If you do not make the team, you may be put on the reserve team. Try-outs will be next Monday morning at 7a.m, before breakfast. Talk to me if you have any questions._

_Harry_

That was good enough, Harry thought, holding the parchment up and waving it in the air a bit, just to make sure that the ink had dried. He got up from his armchair and made his way over to the notice board, which wasn't very full at the moment. The only other things posted was an advertisement for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, which Ron had put up under duress from his twin brothers; and the usual daily schedule, showing when the meals took place and when the holidays began and ended.

Harry used a sticking charm to post his Quidditch notice. He was perfectly aware that he was being watched again, but he ignored the eyes trained on him as he made his way back to his armchair.

After a minute or two, students began to trickle up to the notice board to see what Harry had posted. A few seemed disappointed, as if he would have written an autobiography and stuck it up for the entire common room to see.

But a few stayed and read his notice, and Harry saw a few of them muttering as they read to themselves. They were the ones who were actually interested in the try-outs, and not just Harry and his life's drama. Harry looked them over, searching for the potential team members.

There was a girl from third year, who looked as if she would make a fair chaser. Her build was light, which would help her speed and maneuverability. Another boy was tall and skinny. He might have been in sixth year. He, along with yet another girl, seemed to have the right build for chasers.

There were three boys who looked about fifth year, who were stocky and would be well suited for the beater positions. Harry just hoped that they were all decent flyers.

Harry noticed one of the girls detach from the clump of people around the board and start towards where he was sitting. Harry pulled out his notebook and pen, in preparation for a conversation. Then he started to plan out the DA meetings, just to appear busy.

The girl lingered a few feet behind his chair for a couple minutes, and Harry began to get impatient. Was she scared of him?

Finally he gave up pretending to be busy, and turned to look pointedly at her. He quirked his eyebrow, asking, _what is it?_ She seemed startled at first, but then she ducked her head and walked up to him.

"Hi, I'm Brianna." She said. Harry nodded in acknowledgement. She was definitely nervous.

_"Well, you probably know who I am."_ Harry wrote on his pad, and he showed it to her. Her lips quirked in a tiny smile.

"Yeah, I sort of do. Umm…I was curious…why are the beater positions open? I thought that last year two beaters were found."

_"Their families decided to leave Europe, because of the war with Voldemort. They're in the states, I think."_ Harry wrote, trying to keep his usually messy handwriting neat so that Brianna could read it.

"Oh…"

_"You can ask, you know."_

"Ask? What?" She seemed surprised, and a little guilty.

_"You seem awkward. You can ask about my voice, if you want to know. I'd rather people find out the real story from me than just blindly believe the lies in the _Prophet_.__"_

"What…what happened?"

_"A rogue curse hit my neck. I have no idea what it was; only that it sort of lit the insides of my neck on fire. It burned away my vocal chords."_

"Oh…that must have been terrible. It must still be terrible." Brianna had, by now, come up next to Harry so that she could read his messages as he wrote them.

_"I'm managing."_

"I know…but…still…if you don't mind my asking, what has been the hardest?"

_"Realizing everything that I cannot do now. For the first few weeks I was sort of in shock; I didn't really react. Then one day…it sort of all just came crashing down on me. I was a wreck."_

"I'm sorry."

_"I don't need sympathy."_

"No, I'm sorry about everything that's been in the papers. They had no right to say anything."

_"Well thanks. That's the first time someone said something along those lines. The papers are what sting the most."_

"Yeah well…I'm glad you're still alive. I'll be trying out for a chaser position, so I guess I'll see you on Monday."

Harry nodded, and she turned and walked away. Another group of younger girls immediately surrounded her, pestering her about her conversation with _Harry Potter_. Harry sighed. Some things, like people's curiosity, never changed.


	22. Prove Yourself

I don't own Harry Potter.

…

Harry decided to hold the first DA meeting that Friday, in two days. They would be meetings in "the usual place." In other words, the Room of Requirement. His notice was a little shady.

_DA_

_Will be starting again. First meeting: Friday. The usual place. Spread the word to the Claws and the Puffs. No strangers._

Harry once again got up and used a sticking charm to place the notice on the board. Again, a group of people gathered around to see what he had posted. Most seemed downright confused, as they should be. No one knew what "DA" stood for, except for the members. No one knew what "the usual place" was, except the members. As a result, you could easily see who the members of the DA were by the lack of confusion on their faces. Harry even saw a few grins.

Harry began to pack up his parchment, ink bottle, and quills. He had finished what he needed to do for now; now it was getting late and he needed to get some sleep.

He summoned his school satchel and packed up all of his wizarding writing supplies into it. He kept out his notebook and pen though, in case someone approached him and he needed to write a message.

Hermione looked up from her book, which she had immersed herself in after speaking to the first years and had not yet emerged from.

"Are you going up to the dorm now?" She asked, and he nodded.

"I'll be down here for a little while more. I want to read another chapter." Hermione informed him, and he smiled and rolled his eyes as if to say, _of course_.

_"Good night._" He said to Hermione, and then tapped Ron, who was nearby hurriedly writing out his final essay for potions, on the shoulder.

_"I'm going up to the dorms. See you later._" Ron nodded.

"I have to stay and finished this bloody essay. I'll see you tomorrow, if you're already asleep by the time I get up there." Ron looked morosely down at his parchment, which was filled with ink blots because of Ron's haste. Harry just smiled, shouldered his satchel, and vanished up the stairs to the dormitory.

…

The next morning Harry went down to the common room with Ron to wait for Hermione, so they could go to breakfast together. Several other Gryffindors were already there, waiting for the main rush of students trying to get to breakfast before going down for their meal.

_"Did you see that I've posted the notice for Quidditch try-outs and the first DA meeting?" _Harry asked Ron.

"No I didn't. When did you post them, last night? I was too busy with that bloody essay to look at the notice board."

_"The quidditch try-outs are set for next Monday, and the first DA meeting is going to be on Friday, in the Room of Requirement."_

"Oh, alright then. You'll probably have to make sure that I actually get to those…" Ron said, and then they spotted Hermione coming down from her dorm.

"Morning, Hermione." Ron greeted.

_"Let's go get breakfast."_

"Yeah. I've been waiting long enough." Ron grumbled.

"Oh Ron, you don't have to be eating something every minute." Hermione said.

"Easy for you to say." Ron muttered as they exited the common room and began to walk to the Great Hall.

_"Hermione, D-A meeting is this Friday."_

"Oh, you've already planned it? I was thinking about it last night. What are you going to cover?" Hermione asked.

_"I'll probably start out with an assessment of everyone's skills so that I can figure out what most people don't know. If I have to, I'll split us up so that I can teach different skill levels separately._"

"Wow, Harry. You've actually thought about this quite a bit already, haven't you?" Hermione said, sounding impressed. Harry put on a hurt expression.

_"Why are you so surprised?_"

Hermione stuttered as she tried to find an answer, and Harry and Ron grinned.

_"It's going to be focused on offensive spells. Cutting spells, petrifying spells, stunners, explosive spells, fire spells, binding spells, you get the gist. I may get into a few darker spells too."_ Harry continued.

"We really are being taught how to be an army this time." Ron said.

_"We have to know how to fight, Ron. Everyone is going to have to do their part in this."_

"I know. It's just sort of depressing."

…

After breakfast, Hagrid began handing out class timetables. When he reached Harry, Hagrid paused.

"Oh, Harry. I'm sorry abou'…wha' happened. How've you been gettin' on, eh?"

_"I'm alright, Hagrid. It's good to see you again." _Harry wrote on his notepad and then showed it to the half giant. A tear formed in the corner of Hagrid's eye, and then Hagrid hurriedly wiped it away.

"You too. Here are yer timetables; I'll see you three later. I've got these schedules ter hand out."

Hagrid gave them a small wave and a wan smile, and then moved off down the table, handing out the timetables.

_"What made him so sad all of a sudden?_" Harry asked.

"You didn't realize, Harry? Hagrid was upset because he just saw up close the proof you are mute. I guess that deep down inside him he was hoping that it was all some elaborate story." Hermione explained.

_"He's sad__…because of me?"_

"He's sad because he thinks you are suffering." Hermione replied.

_"But I'm not. Not really, anyway."_

"I know, but Hagrid is probably imagining what life is like for you now, and painting a sad picture for himself."

_"I'll have to talk to him again later."_

"That's probably a good idea." Hermione agreed.

"What do you have first?" Ron asked, peering at Harry's timetable. Harry looked at it too.

_"Looks like I have potions first off, then a double period of defense, transfiguration, care of magical creatures, a free period, and charms. Astronomy isn't until tomorrow night. Hopefully it won't interfere with the DA meeting."_

"It shouldn't, as long as we have the meeting immediately after the last period of classes." Hermione pointed out.

_"I forgot to mention the time for the meeting on my notice!"_ Harry smacked a hand to his forehead dramatically, although it truly was a big mistake. He'd have to post another notice in the common room tonight, again with the message for the Gryffindors to spread the word to the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs.

"Post another notice…" Hermione began.

_"I've already concluded that."_

"Oh. Alright then." Hermione said, startled.

"All students excluding first years please remain in the Great Hall so that the staff may check that you can perform our alarm spell." McGonagall said, the sonorous charm causing her voice to echo above the students' babble. "First years, please be prepared to go to your first class."

A new wave of conversation began as the students began talking about the safety of Hogwarts.

"I hope the death eaters don't attack again." Dean commented.

"I wouldn't be surprised if they did. Hogwarts is still a prime target." Hermione reasoned, doing nothing to allay her peers' fears. Neville shivered.

"I'm glad Harry is starting the DA up again. I felt much more competent in fifth year because of those meetings." Neville said.

"Yeah, they really were a help." Ron agreed. Harry didn't join in the conversation, preferring to listen to what people were saying.

"First years, go to your classes! Second years and above, please line up at the edges of the room while the tables and benches are vanished." McGonagall announced.

Harry stood and, with Hermione and Ron by his side, pushed his way through the crowds of students to the edges of the room. They ended up standing near to the Slytherins.

"Hey! Potter! You'd better watch your back, not that it will do you any good!" Pansy Parkinson said loudly, and several of the others Slytherins snickered.

"Yeah, even if you did see us coming, you couldn't do anything about it, squib!" Blaise Zabini added.

"Why are you even here, Potter? Shouldn't you be with the first years?" Parkinson said, grinning at her wit.

Harry clenched his fists, feeling like growling. He hated that he couldn't shoot back his own retorts. He _so_ wanted to point out that he'd beaten Zabini soundly in a sixth-year mock duel. He could now do more magic silently than he ever had vocally, while Parkinson had resorted to whispering the incantations last year in order to not appear like a failure in silent magic.

"Harry, ignore them. You'll show them soon enough." Hermione said, laying a hand on his arm and shooting a glare at the guffawing Slytherins.

Suddenly loud pops were heard, and when Harry peered over the heads of the students in front of him he realized that the tables and benches, along with the food they had carried, had vanished from the room.

"Please form eight lines, two per house, ordered by year." McGonagall instructed, her voice once again amplified by the sonorous charm.

It took several minutes for the students to form the organized lines the McGonagall had asked for, but they eventually did accomplish it. Harry was right at the end of his respective line, with Hermione beside him and Ron beside her, followed by the other seventh year Gryffindors, then the sixth and fifth years. In the line in front of his were the second, third, and fourth year Gryffindors. The Slytherin lines were behind him, while the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff lines were on the other side of the hall.

Staff members began to move up the lines, starting with the second years. They had each student attempt to shoot a flare of red sparks up into the air, a feat which few of the second years had accomplished. Harry was surprised at how few students knew the spell, and the few that did didn't produce sparks that flew very high. He heard the teachers telling most students to report to the Great Hall before or after dinner for instruction in the spell.

Half an hour passed before the teachers had gotten to the fifth years. Harry let out a heavy breath, tired of waiting. He knew the spell; after all, hadn't he saved Fleur Delacour in fourth year during the third task by sending up red sparks? He guessed that the reason he was here was because the teachers needed to know that he could still perform magic. It was frustrating for him, but it made sense. And he would produce the largest, brightest flare he could, just to show those petty Slytherins who could take care of himself.

Another twenty minutes passed. More students knew the spell as the teachers reached the older years, but still very few could make the sparks go high enough to actually be of any use. Hermione sighed and began to tap her foot. Harry wasn't the only one getting impatient.

Finally, a teacher reached the Gryffindor seventh years. It was McGonagall.

Lavender was first, and she managed a ten-foot high fountain of dull red sparks. McGonagall eyed the sparks critically.

"You still need to work on the height. That won't do you much good, especially with how dull the sparks are. Remain in the Great Hall after dinner. We'll help you produce an adequate flare." McGonagall said, and then moved on to the next student: Neville.

Neville said the spell and punched his wand into the air, looking nervous. But his flare was one of the best so far, reached nearly twenty feet high and casting a red glow over the Great Hall. He ended the spell and grinned at McGonagall, who spared him a smile.

"Very good, Mr. Longbottom. That was quite satisfactory."

She slowly came down the line until she reached Ron, only having cleared, out of the seventh years, Neville, Parvati, and Dean, who had all been in the DA. Harry felt an odd sense of pride.

Ron also passed McGonagall's test, his sparks reaching just a little lower than Neville's but just as bright. Hermione's were the tallest yet, but weren't quite as bright. McGonagall pursed her lips.

"Try again, Ms. Granger. That was a good height, but it would be useless unless someone sees the glow."

Frowning, Hermione again shot sparks into the air. This time they weren't as high, but they were sparkling brightly. McGonagall gave her a curt nod and finally reached Harry.

"What about you, Mr. Potter? I know you could do this in your fourth year, but can you now?" She spoke kindly, not at all taunting. Harry nodded.

"Go on, then." McGonagall said somberly, as if expecting Harry to fail. Pursing his lips with determination, Harry punched his wand into the air while focusing on the image of a jet of neon red sparks reaching high into the air.

He felt his magic rush through him and could feel when it entered his wand. Then the sparks burst from the tip of his wand and shot up into the air in a steady stream, hitting the hidden ceiling and raining back down. People covered their eyes from the brightness of the flare, and Lavender shrieked as sparks landed on her shoulders. Harry could see the Slytherins staring slack-jawed. Harry smiled grimly, and then pictured the sparks reaching the ceiling and swirling around the Great Hall. His magic conformed to his thoughts, and the sparks began to reach high up and then turn to swirl around the Great Hall in a bright red rushing stream. The glowing river smashed into a few other students' weak flares, breaking up the other weaker groups of sparks. People stared mutely at the stream, their mouths hanging open.

After holding the spell for a few seconds, he ended his stream of magic and watched the sparks sink to the floor, where they disintegrated into nothing. Students from all houses were staring at him in complete awe.

"Well…I'd say you passed with more than flying colors!" McGonagall said, barely keeping her excitement restrained. Then she let herself grin, a decidedly un-McGonagall expression.

"It's so good to see you're doing well, Harry." She said, and then she gave him a small nod and turned to face the other students.

"Dismissed! Go to your classes!" She shouted, and the students slowly began to flow from the Great Hall, all talking about Harry.

"Harry…that was amazing! I've never heard of something like that!" Hermione gushed, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

"I told you, it's like he turned into bloody Merlin. I reckon he could do anything now!" Ron said to Hermione.

_"What do the two of you have first?"_ Harry signed to Hermione and Ron, trying to break up the talk about him.

"Potions." They both responded, looking a little put out. So they had their first class of the year together.

"We're paired with the Slytherins still. Pity." Hermione commented, taking another glance at her timetable. Harry would have groaned, if he could have. As it was, he let out a heavy sigh and hung his head dramatically as they started trudging down to the potions classroom.

Slytherins. Oh joy.

…

Horace Slughorn greeted Harry as he entered the potions classroom with Ron and Hermione.

"Harry! Harry! Do come in, boy. Good to see you. Terrible, of course, what happened…absolutely terrible. But it appears as if you are getting on well, despite things. I've already heard about your flare in the Great Hall. Brilliant! It seems you shan't disappoint…here, here, sit down."

Harry gave the old rambling professor a small smile and took the desk indicated, Ron sitting next to him. Hermione took one of the seats at the desk behind Harry and Ron, and they all began to unpack their potions equipment.

Harry had expected Professor's favoritism to have ended when he heard that Harry couldn't perform magic. But, Slughorn was a potions master. Potions did not require a voice, so Harry's grades shouldn't even waver in this subject. That probably contributed to Slughorn's unchanged attitude, but the gossip about Harry's flare was what probably did it. If Slughorn hadn't heard about that he would probably be ignoring Harry along with the majority of his other students.

"Ah, and Ms. Granger, of course. Had a good summer?"

"Yes, sir, thank you." Hermione replied. Ron snorted, knowing that Slughorn was ignoring him, as per usual.

"Hello, Professor Slughorn." Dean said, entering the classroom.

"Ah, hello…David, was it? Excuse me; I need to write the lesson on the board…" Slughorn said as he turned to the chalkboard and began to write out a complex potion recipe.

Harry watched Pansy Parkinson along with Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode swagger into the classroom and take seats on the "Slytherin" side of the room. They sent sneers at Harry, but none of them taunted him. They probably couldn't think of anything to say, after Harry's display in the Great Hall.

"Very well, is everyone here? Yes, it appears so…" Slughorn said as he began the lesson. "Today we will be doing a bit of a review from last year's lessons. On the board I have written the recipe for a calming potion, which you have half of the period to brew and bottle. The next half of the period will be spent brewing the 'Liquid Luck' potion, Felix Felicis. Do not forget to clean your cauldrons between brewing each potion. I trust you all know _scourgify_? Very good, now begin!"


	23. Initial Successes

I do not own Harry Potter…everyone does know that by now, don't they?

…

Harry couldn't wait to get out of the stuffy potions classroom and into the Defense Against the Dark Arts room, as he was enormously intrigued by taking a class on defense taught by a transfiguration professor. He had no doubt that McGonagall could defend herself, but he wondered just how good she was.

Slughorn had a disappointed look on his face when Harry handed in a putrid and purple bottle of what was supposed to be Felix Felicis, but Harry didn't spare the professor an apologetic smile as he turned and hurried out the door. Hermione had forgotten her DADA textbook, so she rushed to the common room, saying that she would see them in class.

On the way to the classroom Harry and Ron were joined by Neville, Cho Chang, and Michael Corner. This year the gryffindors were paired with the ravenclaws for defense instead of the slytherins, a change Harry had mixed feelings about.

He would have loved to show up the snarky slytherins in mock duels, but the fewer classes he had with slytherins the fewer chances they got to taunt him for one reason or another. If he made some sort of mistake, the slytherins wouldn't let it go.

But the ravenclaws had no reason to taunt Harry, and they would most likely be good dueling partners due to their general competence in classes. That would be a nice change from the surprisingly clumsy slytherins.

"What do you think McGonagall will be like?" Cho asked as they made their way to the defense classroom.

"I think she'll be very strict and won't allow any funny business." Ron said.

"Yeah, just like transfiguration classes." Neville agreed.

"I wonder who is teaching that. Whoever the professor is, he didn't show up for breakfast this morning either." Cho commented.

"Awfully funny, that. Why wouldn't the professor come to breakfast? Do you think he's even in the castle yet?"" Ron added.

"Who knows? If he is he must be some sort of recluse." Michael said, speaking for the first time. Harry didn't know Michael very well. From what he had seen of the other boy he was quiet, sarcastic, and had a reputation for being grim. He didn't seem to have many friends, probably from his reputation as being creepy, but he had seemed to get a little closer to Cho over sixth year.

"Maybe he's paranoid, like Mad-Eye Moody. Maybe he's holed up in his quarters and won't be seen except for classes." Ron said solemnly.

"Or maybe he just got delayed. That is a reasonable explanation." Cho reasoned. Harry shook his head in amusement. It could actually be quite entertaining to listen to a conversation.

"What about you Harry? Have any theories?" Neville asked. He must have noticed Harry's complete non-participation.

Harry shrugged and put on a mystified expression to convey his confusion over the whole thing.

"Wow. Talk about eloquence." Michael said.

"Michael!" Cho scolded. But Harry laid a hand on her shoulder and grinned to show he wasn't hurt.

_"Ron, tell Michael that he's welcome to be sarcastic about me all he wants. It's refreshing."_ Harry signed quickly, facing Ron so that his friend caught it.

Ron shrugged, mystified.

"Harry says that Michael can be sarcastic about him all he wants, because it is refreshing."

Cho looked utterly bewildered, while Michael snorted in amusement. Neville grinned.

"That is not a typical reaction." Michael said.

_"Tell him I'm not typical."_ Harry signed, and again Ron translated. Harry couldn't wait until he didn't need his friends with him to translate everything.

Michael raised his eyebrow at that.

"It's strange hearing Ron say things, knowing that what he is saying is actually your words." Michael commented.

Harry shrugged.

"Are you guys coming to the DA meeting tomorrow night?" Ron asked.

"Of course we are! I haven't heard a time yet, though." Cho replied.

_"Tell them it'll be at five, and that I'm sorry for leaving out the time on my notice."_ Harry signed to Ron.

"Oh, that's why no one knows when to go? You forgot about what time it would be?" Michael said after hearing Ron's translation. Harry nodded abashedly.

"Harry has a lot going on this year! You can't blame him for forgetting a detail here and there!" Ron defended hotly. Harry made a calming motion with a hand.

"Why is it any busier than last year?" Michael asked.

"Well, he's got to organize the entire gryffindor quidditch team practices and try-outs, he's restarting the DA and planning what to teach all of us, and he's got to keep up research on silent magic and sign language in addition to the NEWT classes he's taking. Not to mention that he's got to deal with the slytherins and make sure that they don't attack him in some dingy corridor." Ron listed.

"Alright, I get it. He's busy." Michael conceded, holding his hands up in defeat. They had now reached the defense classroom, and Harry held open the door for the others as they filed through. Then he entered the room himself, and could tell that today would be a practical lesson because there were no desks or chairs in the room. Students had lined up against the walls, in no particular order, and McGonagall was standing at the front of the room waiting for everyone to get there.

Harry went to stand next to Ron, and they talked a little about what they suspected they would be learning in the class that year while the other students trickled in. Hermione eventually joined them, red-faced from running to avoid being late.

"Very good, now that everyone is here, please pay attention." McGonagall said, clapping her hands to emphasize the point. The conversations died.

"Thank you. Today, as many of you may have guessed, will be a practical review in which I will assess your skill levels so that I may determine what to teach for the proceeding lessons. I will be assigning everyone a partner, based on their reported skill, and the pairs will take turns dueling. Now, when I call out a pair of names, I want both students to come and stand together behind me, so that I may see who else is left.

"Cho Chang and Seamus Finnegan! Neville Longbottom and Lavender Brown! Padma Patil and Ronald Weasley!" McGonagall rattled off pairs until most of the students were behind her, and only a few ravenclaws, Hermione, and Harry were left.

McGonagall paired up two of the ravenclaws, leaving Michael Corner, and then pursed her lips.

"We have an odd number. Is anyone willing to duel twice?" She asked.

Hermione began to raise her hand, but Harry beat her to it. McGonagall smiled at him.

"Very well, Mr. Potter. You may duel both Ms. Granger and Mr. Corner. Now, is there a pair that wishes to go first?"

Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and lifted both of their hands into the air eagerly. Harry rolled his eyes, but he actually didn't mind.

"Good. The only rule is not to use any curse that could in any way cause permanent harm. These are not malicious duels; they are tests of skill. Now, Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter, please take your places." McGonagall instructed, and Hermione and Harry stood opposite each other in the center of the room.

Harry drew his wand and held it at the ready; Hermione did the same. They both stood still, not letting their eyes leave the other, waiting for McGonagall's permission to begin.

"Let's see if you can beat me this time, Harry!" Hermione teased. Harry snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Begin!" McGonagall ordered.

Harry conjured a shield with a thought, knowing that Hermione loved to attack immediately in hopes of ending her fight quickly. True to her pattern, several minor jinxes slammed into Harry's shield.

Hermione paused, registering that her initial attack hadn't worked. Harry cocked his head and smirked, as if to say, _you thought that would work?_

She pursed her lips and then fired off another string of jinxes, ones like the jelly-legs jinx, laughing jinx, dancing jinx, and a tripping jinx to finish off. None of them penetrated, although they were powerful judging by the vividness of the colors.

But Harry's shield held, pulsing with power. It didn't even flutter under Hermione's barrage.

Hermione paused to catch her breath after firing so many spells, and Harry saw his chance. He dropped his shield and fired a jinx that sealed someone's lips shut until the counter-curse was cast on the victim.

Hermione didn't have time to say the incantation to put up a shield before Harry's jinx impacted her chest and dissipated into her body. Her mouth snapped shut, and Harry heard her too-late mumble of the word _protego. _A small blue shield came from her wand, spluttered, and died. She looked at Harry with annoyance. She could perform silent magic, but she hadn't practiced too many spells and now had her usable spell repertoire reduced to only a few charms.

Harry grinned teasingly.

Hermione furrowed her brow and sent a silent stinging hex towards him. It was a little dull, meaing it was low-powered, but he sidestepped it anyway while he cast a tripping jinx at Hermione. She dodged out of the way, just in time to avoid the spell.

Harry now began his own barrage. He cast multiple disarming spells, stunners, body binders, and tripping jinxes at her while she desperately dodged. He had to admit, she was fast.

Then he had an inspiration. What if he could cause a spell to home in on his target?

He pulled up an image of the disarming spell following Hermione as she dodged, then fired the spell. Hermione tried to dodge again, but her eyes widened in surprise when she saw the spell make a sharp turn and slam into her, hurling her wand towards Harry, who caught it with a triumphant grin. With a wave of his wand he lifted the jinx on her, so that she could speak again.

"Well done, both of you!" McGonagall praised. "I would like to point out a tactic used by Mr. Potter. Most witches and wizards cannot cast many if any spells silently. If you can manage to hit your opponent with a spell that prevents them from speaking, you will typically have a major advantage. This is also why it is a very good idea to learn a few combat spells to such proficiency that you can cast them silently.

"Also, Mr. Potter forced his spell to follow Ms. Granger. I have heard of spells that naturally home in on their targets, but they are very advanced magic and require a great deal of concentration on the intended target. If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Potter, how did you cause your spell to follow Ms. Granger?"

_"Hermione, do you mind? Tell her that I focused on wanting my spell to follow you and it did."_ Harry signed.

Hermione explained to McGonagall what Harry's reply had been, and McGonagall pursed her lips thoughtfully.

"I see. Mr. Potter, would you mind going again immediately with Mr. Corner? I would like to observe more of your technique."

Harry shrugged, and gave Hermione her wand back. Then he took his position against Michael, and prepared to duel yet again.

"Begin." McGonagall said.

This time, Harry was the first to fire off spells. He cast a full body bind curse, a powerful stinging hex, a jelly-legs jinx, and a stunner, all aimed in slightly different positions. But Michael had been prepared; he already had a large, strong shield up.

The shield dimmed a little every time one of Harry's spells hit it, but it held. Harry decided to keep hammering at Michael until the shield broke, and fire off the spells so quickly that Michael wouldn't have time to launch his own offensive.

So Harry fired off a whole range of powerful spells aimed straight for the center of Michael's shield. Michael look a little strained from maintaining the stressed defensive spell, but he was keeping it up. It was getting dangerously dim, however, and Harry thought that with another barrage of spells he would break the shield.

Harry thought of the shield crumbling, and then felt his magic rush through him in a powerful wave and pour out his wand in a stream of silver light which cut into Michael's shield, causing it to crumble without a trace of resistance. Michael stared at Harry, dumbfounded.

Harry stared at Michael in return, a little confused over what he had just done. Had he just created some sort of spell that broke shields? It hadn't seemed to do anything else, because Michael seemed perfectly fine.

Harry had to focus again as Michael brought himself back to reality and fired a silent disarming spell straight for Harry. Harry dodged instead of placing up a shield, feeling a little tired. Had he expended too much magical energy with that last spell?

He decided to try to improvise a little more. Maybe he could get his magic to simply knock the wand from Michael's hand, instead of knocking it out and then bringing it to Harry. That should take up less energy, if Harry's silent magic textbooks were anything to go by.

Harry dodged a few more spells and then cast his own spell. Michael, who was at the same time casting a body bind verbally, couldn't change what he was saying in time to put up a shield. But Michael had some sense and dodged desperately out of the way, stumbling a little.

Harry saw his chance and cast a tripping jinx at Michael. It hit the other boy and Michael went sprawling, yet maintained his grip on his wand. But Harry could fire extremely quickly now since he only had to think of what he wanted to do, and so Michael didn't have time to defend himself as Harry cast his body bind curse.

Michael became rigid, and McGonagall called an end. Harry released his curse, and Michael got up with an expression on his face that reeked of injured dignity.

"That was very good, both of you. Mr. Potter, I would like to see you tonight at eight o'clock." McGonagall said. Harry made sure to appear confused, trying to get his professor to explain why she wanted to see him.

"You are not in trouble, Mr. Potter. I simply have a few questions." McGonagall explained, and Harry gave her a relieved smile to show he understood.

…

Through the rest of class Harry found himself yawning, and he felt weak. That one spell must have been very powerful, for Harry to feel this tired. He decided that he couldn't use any more high-powered spells that day, or he might be forced to go to the Hospital Wing for treatment of magical depletion.

Even though he felt lethargic, Harry was extremely curious about his next class, transfiguration. Who would the mystery professor be? Would he or she be a strict teacher like McGonagall, or a lenient fun-loving one like Flitwick?

And who could the teacher possibly be? Most competent witches and wizards were tied up with the war with Voldemort. It was quite possible that the new teacher would not be very skilled. Harry just hoped that wasn't the case.

So it was with suppressed curiosity that Harry entered the transfiguration classroom with Ron and Hermione behind him.

But there was no professor there! Students had taken seats at their desks and were looking curiously around, vainly trying to find the absent mystery professor.

"Do you think that he really isn't even in the castle?" Ron asked.

"I can't imagine McGonagall hiring someone so irresponsible." Hermione commented, and Harry nodded in agreement. McGonagall wouldn't hire a teacher that wasn't even in the school when he should be teaching.

_"Don't you think McGonagall would've been more worried if the professor hadn't arrived?"_ Harry asked.

"Yeah, good point." Ron conceded.

"Maybe he's just getting something ready in his office." Hermione reasoned.

"Yeah, that must be it." Ron agreed as they took their seats.

They waited another minute while the rest of the students filed in. They were paired with the slytherins for this class, and so Harry had to ignore their glares and sneers. They still hadn't come up with any ingenious taunts, but Harry knew it was only a matter of time.

Finally, the last desk had been taken and the door to the professor's office still hadn't opened. The students began to mutter.

"Are we going to have a surprise free period?" Ron asked. He didn't quite manage to conceal the eagerness in his tone. Hermione whacked him on the back of his head with her text book.

"Ronald! We need to take this class!" Hermione scolded.

_"I hope it isn't another Lockheart type, who'll make a grand entrance and then bungle the class."" _Harry commented, his eyes fixed on the office door.

Then the door opened, and a tall lanky young man rushed out. His long brown hair was tussled as if he'd been rushing through his morning, and he had ink stains on his robes and hands. He didn't look too responsible.

"Sorry, sorry! I was working on the lesson plan for the second years and I lost track of the time! And then my ink-pot spilled…anyway, welcome to transfiguration. I am Professor Tersias Blake. Just so you all know me a little better, I want you to know that this is my first teaching job. I was actually a shop owner in Diagon Alley, but the shop had to close due to the war. So please don't judge me too harshly; I have a tendency to over-do things.

"Now! Today we will be doing some advanced human transfiguration. This can be a very useful area of magic if you wish to disguise yourself. It requires more effort and is more risky than using glamours, but…can anyone tell me what the advantage of disguise by transfiguration is?"

Hermione of course, raised her hand immediately, and Professor Blake smiled.

"Ah, I believe you must be Ms. Granger, correct?"

"Yes sir."

"And you have the answer to my question?"

"Human transfiguration is more durable than glamours. While glamours can break under magical stress, any alteration to the human body by transfiguration will hold until it is voluntarily changed." Hermione said.

"Correct! Five points to Gryffindor. Now a very basic application of human transfiguration is to change the color of your hair. This application is harmless, and has been eagerly mastered by many witches who wish to grow their hair longer or change its color. For today, you will all attempt to change your hair so that it matches the hair of the student in front of you. For those of you in the front row, copy the hair of the student in your same column but at the back of the room. You will find a step-by-step instruction on page ten of your textbooks, along with diagrams. Any questions?"

Harry raised his hand, causing the other students to mutter.

"Oh, yes. Mr. Potter." Professor Blake said, looking a little startled and confused. Harry tapped Ron on the shoulder.

_"Translate for me. Ask him if human transfiguration can be used to give a disadvantage to an enemy in a fight."_

"Uh…Harry wants to know if you could mess up an enemy using human transfiguration in a fight." Ron said, looking awkward.

"Why yes, that is a more offensive use of today's subject. If you are at a disadvantage in a fight, you could transfigure someone's leg so that it is too long, thereby slowing his movement and dodging ability. It isn't very practical unless you can perform the spell quickly, however. Most advanced transfiguration spells are very complex and have multiple steps. Some of them take nearly half an hour to complete. That is why you almost never see human transfiguration used in duels. Now, any more questions?"" Professor Blake said, and no more students raised their hands.

"Very well. Turn to page ten and get started!"


	24. Looming Threat

I do not own Harry Potter yada yada yada.

…

The rest of Harry's day went surprisingly normally. He didn't have divination because he had failed his O.W.L. in that subject, so he had an extra free period. He wished he could have skipped History of Magic as well, but that was a mandatory class even if he had failed his O.W.L. for it.

Actually the History of Magic class helped him to get rid of a bit of his sleepiness. He slept through the whole period, and Hermione had to wake him when the class finished. She scolded him, of course, for so easily letting himself fall asleep, but he felt a little better and a little more ready to take on the rest of the day's classes.

The first thing Harry did when he got back to the common room after classes was to post another notice with the time for the DA meeting. It read:

_DA Five P.M._

Harry hesitated before posting it. The DA was supposed to be completely secret. But, then again, Umbridge was not trying to hunt them all down anymore so there wasn't too much danger.

He used a sticking charm to post the little scrap of parchment and then joined Ron and Hermione by the fire to do the first homework of his seventh year.

…

When it came to dinner time, Harry felt a little nervous. After the initial glares and sneers, the slytherins had been surprisingly quiet, only shooting him the occasional considering glance as if they were analyzing how best to take him down. Their behavior made Harry think that something was coming that he wouldn't like, not one bit. And if they wanted to embarrass him, the perfect time to do it would be at dinner when every student and staff member of Hogwarts would be present.

So it was with a little trepidation that Harry made his way down to dinner along with Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Neville. He was jumpy, and kept startling at the slightest noise.

Ginny laid a hand on his shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He gasped, and Ginny drew her hand back in surprise.

"Harry, I was only going to ask why you are so nervous." Ginny said.

_"Sorry. I think that the snakes are going to do something at dinner. It's making me a little jumpy._"

"A little jumpy? Harry, you nearly hit the ceiling just then!" Ron said.

"Why are you so nervous? I mean, you've dealt with things more serious than some pranking slytherins before." Hermione pointed out.

_"I know. But they're going to make me feel helpless by playing on my disability. They're going to embarrass me in front of the whole school.""_ Harry signed sharply.

"How do you know, Harry? For all you know they'll just turn your hair green or something." Ron said.

_"Because they are more cunning than that. They want to hurt me, not just make a spectacle. They'll go right for my weak spot."_

"You sound like a slytherin yourself, Harry." Neville observed, after listening to Hermione's quiet translation. Harry fidgeted. He had never told anyone that the sorting hat had originally wanted to put him in slytherin, because he had been afraid that the gryffindors would reject him. But…these four had stuck by him, through the most difficult time in his life so far, when he was adjusting to his new obstacles in his life. Surely he could trust them with that one secret?

"Harry? What is it?" Ginny asked, noting his indecision. She gently put her hand on his arm, and he made his decision in an instant. He dodged into a shady corridor and beckoned them after him into empty classroom. Frowning, they followed him.

"Harry, what is it? You're acting very strangely." Hermione questioned.

_"I have to tell you guys something. It's…sort of a big deal, for me at least. Someone translate for Neville. He needs to know too.""_

"Alright…what is it?" Ron asked, getting suspicious.

_"Look, you can't tell anyone else. No one. I've kept it a secret for years, and I'm telling you guys now because I know you'll stick with me."_

"This is sounding really serious, Harry. Is it something about…You-Know-Who?" Hermione asked. Harry shook his head.

_"No, this is a personal secret. Just…give me a second."_ Harry paused for a minute, trying to decide how best to say it.

_"When I was sorted…remember how it took so long?" _He eventually asked.

"Yeah. We all remember that. I don't think there's been a longer sorting since we entered Hogwarts." Hermione commented.

_"I was arguing with the sorting hat about where to put me."_

"What? You didn't want to be in gryffindor?" Ron asked, frowning.

_"No, the opposite…I won the argument, and the sorting hat put me in Gryffindor."_

"So…the sorting hat wanted to put you in a different house? It couldn't be ravenclaw, because you hate studying as much as I do."" Ron said.

_"Slytherin. It wanted to put me in slytherin._" Harry finally signed, and his friends were so shocked that Hermione forgot to translate for Neville.

"What did he say? What did he say?" Neville asked as he saw the shock on everyone else's faces.

"Slytherin…blimey, Harry!" Ron said.

"What?" Neville squeaked.

_"It said that I could be great in slytherin. But…I had met Malfoy already and he was in slytherin, and then…Ron had told me that all the dark wizards had come from slytherin and I didn't want to be evil…and Ron was sure he'd get in gryffindor because all his brothers had been there, and I wanted to be with my first friend. So I told the sorting hat that I didn't want to be in slytherin, so it put me in gryffindor. But I had once put the sorting hat on again, in Dumbledore's office, and still thought that I should be in slytherin.""_ This time Hermione remembered to translate for Neville, who appeared relieved.

"So…you're technically a gryffindor, but your brain works like a slytherin's?" Ron asked, beginning to appear overwhelmed. Harry nodded.

"I've never heard of a student choosing where they get sorted. I wonder if Harry's choice was the first time it happened." Hermione said calmly.

"Why didn't you ever tell us before, Harry?" Ginny finally asked, speaking for the first time since Harry's revelation.

_"I thought that the gryffindors wouldn't want me around anymore. I was scared that people wouldn't want to be friends with me._" Harry admitted.

"This doesn't change who you are Harry. It doesn't matter where you got sorted; you are still the same person that we all love."" Ginny said.

"You are always so ready to believe that you are on your own, Harry. You need to trust others more often." Hermione said.

_"I grew up without anyone to rely on. Old habits die hard, I guess."_

"Wait. You said before, 'first friend.' You'd never had a friend before?" Ron asked, beginning to overcome his shock.

_"Yeah, but I'm not talking about that now. Let's go to dinner, okay? Please?"_

His friends exchanged glances, silently deciding amongst themselves that they would wheedle the information from Harry at a later date.

"Alright, Harry. Let's go to dinner." Hermione conceded, and Harry breathed a relieved sigh. For now, at least, the true extent of how horrible his life at the Dursleys had been was safe.

…

When they finally reached the Great Hall, most students had already arrived. Harry glanced over to the slytherin table and briefly examined their faces. Most seemed to be their normal, stoic selves, but a few of the younger years had anticipation and glee breaking through their amateur emotional masks.

That settled it. The slytherins had hatched some plot and were about to put it into action.

Harry took his seat with the other gryffindor seventh years and tried to act as if nothing was bothering him while he ate. Neville, Ron, Hermione and Ginny noticed his mood, but they didn't say anything, and Harry was grateful.

All through dinner Harry was tensed for some sort of trick to be played upon him, but none came. The slytherins glared and sneered in mimicries of their former head of house, but no spells were fired at Harry, no food was thrown, and it all served to make Harry all the more uneasy. He should have known that they would do whatever they were going to do in such a way that no one would be able to pin the blame on them, not for certain. They had too much cunning to let themselves get in trouble, even if they would love to see Harry embarrassed in front of the whole school.

Hermione and Ron had to stay after dinner to help teach the other students the flare spell because they were prefects; so Harry, Neville and Ginny walked back to the common room, thoroughly confused about the lack of action on the slytherins' part. Just what were they up to?

Harry pondered the slytherins' inaction as he sat by the fire. He knew that they wanted to act soon…maybe they were waiting until he was wandering the corridors by himself so they could lay an ambush? Or maybe they would rig some part of the castle as a trap and wait for him to fall victim to it.

Whatever their plans were they had Harry's stomach twisting and turning in anxiety.

…

By the time Harry had to head down to the Headmistress's office at eight o'clock, he had worked himself into such a jumpy state that even a whisper of wind in the corridors would be enough to send him a foot into the air.

He collected his pad and a pen and then set off, after signing to Ginny to make sure that someone would be at the portrait to let him in when he knocked.

He passed Hermione and Ron in the corridor and they had a short conversation before Harry hurried on, not wanting to be late. Why exactly did McGonagall want to see him? Had he done something questionable in the DADA class?

A thought struck him as he was walking: how could he get into McGonagall's office, even if he knew the password?

But McGonagall had foreseen the problem and was waiting for him at the entrance to her office. When he saw her waiting at the end of the corridor, he smiled in relief and hurried towards her. He was glad to not be in the corridors alone anymore.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter." McGonagall greeted as he neared. He nodded in response, and they turned to the gargoyle that guarded the office.

"Lemon drops." McGonagall said, and the gargoyle jumped aside. She turned to Harry, who was frowning at the very Dumbledore-ish password, and wiped a tear from her eye.

"I couldn't bear to change it. Not yet." Harry nodded in understanding, a little surprised that his stiff teacher was showing so much emotion and sentimentality.

They went up the stairs in silence.

"Take a seat, Mr. Potter." McGonagall said when they reached the office. She herself sat in the large chair behind the familiar desk, with all of Dumbledore's trinkets and magical machines whirring and ticking around the room.

"I just wanted to ask how you've been doing in general, and how your magic is going. From what I saw, you are doing extremely well." McGonagall said. Harry took out his notepad and pen.

_"I'm okay. I've had a sort of breakdown over the summer but I'm fine now. I've been learning a lot about magic in general and how it works, and I feel more capable now than ever."_

"It certainly seems so, Mr. Potter." McGonagall commented after he showed her the notebook. "Is there anything that you are having trouble with?"

_"I can't get into the common room unless I'm with someone."_

"Oh, I see. Yes, I'm sorry I forgot about that." She paused, thinking. "Would your being able to sign the password suffice?" Harry nodded. "I will inform the Fat Lady tomorrow morning. You will have to be there, to show the Fat Lady what the sign is…unless you show it to me now. Then you would not have to be present."

_"The password is 'protection,' right?"_

"Correct, Mr. Potter."

_"I'll sign it slowly."_ He wrote, and then when McGonagall nodded at him to continue, he slowly signed "protection" again and again until McGonagall could copy it perfectly.

She smiled.

"I will try personally to learn sign language, Mr. Potter, along with the rest of the staff. That will make it easier for you to participate in classes."

Harry grinned.

_"Thank you, Headmistress. But that will certainly take up a lot of your time. You don't have to; I can cope."_

"Nonsense, Mr. Potter. It is my duty, and the duty of the staff, to accommodate the students as much as possible. In this case, that means that we must learn sign language." She paused, and gave him a fond smile. "In any case, I would learn it duty or no duty. I want you to be able to communicate easily with me."

_"Again, thank you. It means a lot."_

"Now. About your magic. You said you have been learning about magic itself. Does that relate to the sudden change in your magical skills?"

_"Over the summer I was learning silent magic. One day while I was practicing I felt something in me…release. My magic sort of flooded out of me into a single spell; it was the largest and most powerful body-bind I've ever seen. After that everything was so much easier. I learned that magic is governed by intent, not the words of spells. I don't need spells anymore. I just focus on what I want to accomplish."_

"Where did you find this information?"

_"In my silent magic textbook."_

"I haven't heard of this before; that must an old textbook. I would like to take a look at it; could you bring it to your next Defense class?" Harry nodded.

"Thank you. Now, is there anything else you are having trouble with?" Harry hesitated. Should he tell her about the slytherins? No. She couldn't do anything about it, and it technically wasn't even a big deal. If they pranked him, even if it would be a sadistic prank, it wouldn't be the first time a prank would be played in Hogwarts.

Harry shook his head.

"Alright. Know that if you need anything you can come to me. I'll tell the gargoyle to let you in if you sign the gryffindor common room password."

_"Thank you, Headmistress."_

"One last thing. Madame Pomfrey insists that she see you as soon as you have the time. She wants to do a check up on your neck." Harry nodded, secretly dreading going back, even for a short visit, to the Hospital Wing.

"Now, it is nearly curfew so you'd better get back. You have someone to let you back into the common room, I trust?" Again, Harry nodded.

"Very well. Goodnight, Mr. Potter." Harry stood up and gave McGonagall a nod, then turned and left the office.

Before Harry stepped past the gargoyle in the corridor, he cast a sensory charm on himself so that he would better be able to hear and see anyone trying to sneak up to him. Then he cast a notice-me-not charm on himself, even though he knew that the charm did not work too well when dealing with other wizards. At the moment, however, it was the best he could do seeing as he had left his invisibility cloak back in the dorm in a moment of stupidity and glamours took too much energy to uphold. And he was tired. Dead tired.

He trudged through the corridors, trying to make as little sound possible even though it was difficult, seeing as his mind was wandering. There was no one around, nearly all the students were in their common rooms by now and it was not yet the time for prefects to patrol.

This, Harry realized, would be the perfect time for the slytherins to get him. No one around, no prefects there to catch them, not yet past curfew, and Harry exhausted without his friends.

He had reached the last flight of staircases before he detected anyone around. Footsteps, slow and careful, were getting closer. Harry mounted the stairs and kept moving toward the common room. If he got close enough to the portrait whoever was following him might not do anything because Harry was so near his home.

Harry was aware of the person following him all the way to the portrait. The Fat Lady was asleep and didn't wake when Harry jostled her frame with his hurried knocking. The watcher didn't get closer.

The portrait opened, revealing a smiling Ginny. Harry climbed into the hole and glanced back, trying to spot the stalker. But he saw no one.

The portrait closed, and Harry finally felt safe.

"How did the meeting go, Harry?" Ginny asked.

_"Fine. She just wanted to know how I was doing and if there was anything I'm having trouble with. She's going to tell the Fat Lady that I'll be signing the passwords from now on."_

"That's great! Do you want to stay up for a while? We could talk…" Ginny said hopefully.

_"I'm sorry, Ginny, I really am. But I'm bone tired. I think I overdid it as far as magic goes today.""_ Ginny covered her disappointment by smiling.

"Well you did do some pretty amazing magic today. I'm not surprised you're tired. Have a good night." She was about to turn away, but Harry stopped her by catching her shoulder.

_"Ginny? Maybe tomorrow night._"

She smiled happily.

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, Harry."

Harry said goodnight to Ron and Hermione, who were about to head off to patrol, and then went up to the empty dorm.


	25. Snakes' Mystery

A.N.

I realized that I never named the new slytherin head of house! I was working on this just assuming that Slughorn was the Head of House, and I completely forgot that I never wrote that! So, to clarify things: Slughorn is the slytherin head of house. I'm going to add that into McGonagall's beginning of year speech for new readers.

Also, I am SO SO SO sorry that it took me ages to update! Christmas and the following week have been crazy, and I got a pottermore account and it held me captive for several days!

Happy Holidays!

I don't own Harry Potter.

…

Even though he was exhausted Harry had a hard time getting to sleep that night. The slytherins were haunting his thoughts. Why had they not acted? Surely they had a plan by now? Who had been following him and why?

Harry pondered these questions again and again, his mind running in circles until finally, he dropped into a sleep troubled by dreams of green-clad death eaters hexing him in the Hogwarts corridors.

…

The next morning Harry was in the common room at seven, having been woken up at six by a nightmare. Not surprisingly, it had combined Voldemort, his muteness, and the slytherin students into a confusing jumble of Harry-tailored horror.

As a result he spent the first hour of his day finishing his third and final book on sign language. He was sure that as he used his new language he would discover words that he could not express, and then he would have to do more research. But for now, he knew plenty enough to be able to simply work on his speed and fluency until it was as natural as English had been.

He cast the _tempus_ charm and the numbers "7:23" appeared in the air before him before dissolving. It was time to head down to breakfast, but neither Ron nor Hermione had come down yet. They had probably slept in, tired from patrolling the halls. He would have to ask them if they had seen anyone; maybe his stalker had been caught.

A few minutes later Ron and Hermione came down, both looking rumpled as if they had gotten ready in a hurry.

_"Just what time did you two get up?_" Harry asked, amused, as he raced out of the portrait hole with them to breakfast.

"Five minutes ago." Ron answered, an embarrassed blush on his cheeks.

"I woke up at least forty minutes ago, but Lavender kept asking questions about you, Harry, and I barely managed to escape without being downright rude."

_"So what did you tell her?"_

"In the end, that you were the same. She was surprised, so I had time to leave before she started prattling again."

Ron's blush, Harry noticed, had not left but had instead intensified at the mention of Lavender.

_"She didn't want to know about her little won-won?"_ Harry teased. Ron instantly flared up bright red.

"Won-Won." Hermione said, choking on smothered giggles. Both she and Harry exchanged glances, and then burst out in full fledged laughter. Some other students stared, especially at Harry and his strange silent gasps, but Harry at this point didn't care. Who would, when remembering the ridiculous nick-name Lavender had given his best friend?

He and Hermione broke out in several more fits of chuckling as they walked to the Great Hall, and Ron just got redder and redder until he looked like a beet. Just his face alone was enough to set Harry and Hermione helplessly laughing again.

Finally Harry remembered to ask them whether they had caught anyone out in the corridor the previous night once they had served themselves breakfast.

"No, Harry. Ron and I didn't see anyone, except Professor Flitwick and the other prefects, and I haven't heard anything about a student being out after curfew. If there was someone out, they didn't get caught." Hermione replied.

"Why did you want to know?" Ron asked, so Harry explained the footsteps from the previous night.

"Harry, don't you think that you should tell Hagrid – since he's our new head-of-house – or McGonagall? If the slytherins are stalking you in the corridors now, they may want to do more than just prank you. We know that it is possible some of them are marked. Malfoy proved that it was possible for death eaters to live in the castle. Maybe they want to take you to Voldemort." Hermione said. Ron nodded in agreement.

_"I don't know what they plan to do. As far as I know, all they want to do is embarrass me. It may make me nervous, but it would still be a prank, which isn't a crime. The most that would happen to them, even without proof that they are planning something, is that they get a few point deductions or a single detention. The teachers can't help here."_

"I suppose you are right, but I don't like this. Stalkers? That is taking it pretty far."

"Their egos and pureblood fanaticism go pretty far." Ron grumbled.

_"It will be okay, guys. I just need to get it behind me. As it is, I'm nervous…once it has happened I''ll be able to relax a bit."_

"Hey, I'll see you tonight, Harry, Ron, Hermione." Dean said as he stood from the bench and slung his school satchel over his shoulder. Harry nodded, and watched Dean go. He had nearly forgotten about the DA meeting that night, but he supposed he should be thinking in more detail about it. He was going to have to asses everyone's skills and work from there, he guessed. That way he would know exactly what skill levels he was dealing with, and would be able to decide on what to work on more effectively.

"We should head to classes too. We have Herbology first, and it will take a few minutes to get to the greenhouses." Hermione said.

"Hold on a minute, I just need to finish this." Ron said, speaking around the jam-slathered toast in his mouth. Hermione snorted and Harry smiled amusedly. At least he could count of Ron's appetite never changing.

…

Herbology passed without much incident, although Ron and Harry accumulated a fair number of small cuts on their hands from the thorny plants they were working with. Nothing out of the usual.

History of Magic was next, and Harry used the time to think some more about the DA meeting instead of getting extra sleep.

He figured that he would most likely have to focus on silent magic, although he wasn't sure how much help he would be with that. His method wasn't what was taught in classes, and for many students it would be extremely difficult. But he could try, and he did know the method of silently repeating the incantations in your head. The trick would be to get the students to not cheat and whisper the spells, like they did in ordinary classes.

Yes, he decided. That was what would be challenging. Getting everyone to cooperate.

That decided he reminded himself that he still needed to inform Hagrid that he needed the quidditch pitch for Friday morning. Hopefully none of the other team captains had scheduled practices this early in the year, and he wouldn't have any trouble with the scheduling.

Harry wrote out his plans on the piece of parchment he was supposed to be using for class notes and sighed, satisfied. He thought he could take a nap for the remaining half an hour of class, but the next, and recently most prevalent, issue popped to the surface of his mind.

The slytherins.

Oh, why couldn't they just do whatever they were going to do? Their behavior hadn't altered from the previous day, and it was really wearing on Harry's nerves. Not to mention that he couldn't stop pondering his stalker from the previous night. Why had he been followed, if not to be ambushed or pranked? Had that person followed him just to increase his anxiety, or had the stalker had a more physical purpose? Had that person's plans somehow been thwarted, or had he carried out his plans perfectly?

Maybe the only reason Harry had been followed was to try to ascertain his weaknesses.

For instance, to find out how he got into the common room: with help, or without. Or if he could make sounds at all, like a cry for help.

No one except his friends knew the details of the injury that caused his mutism. Most only knew he couldn't speak, but other mutes could make basic sounds like screams or cries or moans even if they couldn't talk. So maybe the slytherins had wanted to see if he made any sounds at all?

Harry put his head in his hands, thoroughly perplexed.

What would he do if he wanted to thoroughly embarrass a mute wizard who had recently displayed unusual power?

Well, he would play on the muteness, but he had already decided that was what the slytherins would take advantage of. But how would he do that, when the wizard was still more than capable of magic?

Disable the wizard's only means of communication. His hands.

That, Harry decided, would be the slytherins' target. His hands were his link to the world now. He couldn't sign or write without them. Without them he would be reduced to facial expressions and body language to communicate, and Harry knew that that wasn't too effective.

The slytherins wouldn't permanently harm him; that would get them expelled and they wouldn't risk that. No, it would be something temporary, like a partial body bind or a binding charm.

But those could be disabled with a simple counter-curse once the cause was discovered. All it would take would be a _finite incantatum_ and Harry would be back to normal. What, then, could the slytherins possibly do?

Nothing, without getting expelled. Harry grinned. The most they could do would be a few minutes of embarrassment. Then Harry would be able to tell the teachers who had done it and the slytherins would all get a detention or two and some point deductions.

His smile faded. The slytherins wouldn't settle for that. Detentions and point deductions just to cause a few moments' embarrassment? It was a lousy trade, and now that Harry thought about it, the slytherins weren't that stupid.

Finally, he gave up, not able to figure out the slytherins' plan. He let his mind wander freely, and wander it did.

To Ginny.

He had said he would be able to spend time with her tonight, he remembered. Maybe he could spend an hour or so with her after the DA meeting before dinner. Actually, maybe they could skip dinner entirely and use the time to have a private meal in the Room of Requirement…he could write to Dobby and ask the house-elf if he and the other elves could help with that. Harry would have to rush to the kitchens to manage it before the DA meeting, but he could do it if he really hurried.

Harry grinned to himself. That would be really nice, to have a private dinner with her. Just the two of them, away from the rest of Hogwarts. Now that Hogsmeade visits had been cancelled, there would be very few opportunities for couples to have a private night. Harry and Ginny would be lucky because of their knowledge of the Room of Requirement.

Harry ended up spending the rest of the class period daydreaming about Ginny and thinking of ways to make their night special. Maybe Dobby would have some ideas to add to Harry's. Come to think of it, the Room of Requirement would probably take care of the setting.

It was perfect.

…

The rest of the day crept by, classes followed by lunch followed by more classes.

Transfiguration was his last class. Harry literally sprinted out of the classroom as soon as the period ended, followed by Hermione and Ron's shouts of "where are you going?"

But Harry dashed through the corridors, passing students just exiting their classrooms. They stared as he raced madly by, his school satchel banging against his side and his textbooks probably giving him a bruise. But he didn't care. He had to get to the kitchens before four forty-five, when he would have to get to the Room of Requirement, seven floors above the kitchens.

It was four forty now.

Finally Harry got to the painting of the pear and entered the kitchens. Panting, he pulled out his notebook and pen and scrawled a message, which he showed to the nearest house-elf.

_"I need to see Dobby. Is he here, and if he isn't, can you call him for me?"_

"Oh yes, Harry Potter Sir! Me's will get Dobby for you right away, Sir!" The house-elf dashed away, weaving through the other house-elves that were working in the kitchen to prepare dinner. Harry watched him go, and then waited impatiently for Dobby to appear.

Suddenly, with a loud crack, Dobby was in front of him.

"Harry Potter! It is so good to sees you, sirs!" Dobby said excitedly, and hugged Harry's legs. He had somehow gotten a hold of a baseball cap and was wearing it atop a sombrero. He also seemed to be wearing a boy's basketball top which was too big and pooled on the floor. Harry smiled at the house-elf, amused at Dobby's appearance.

_"Dobby, I'm in a hurry. Can you get a meal for Ginny and I ready and send it to the Room of Requirement at the usual dinner time?"_ Harry wrote, and showed the message to Dobby.

"Of course, Harry Potter, sir! Dobby will do anything for Harry Potter!" Dobby replied exuberantly, not seeming to be the least disconcerted by Harry's means of communication.

_"Thanks, Dobby. See you later."_ Harry tore the paper from his pad and gave it to Dobby to read, and then dashed out of the kitchens. He was already going to be five minutes late for the DA meeting.

…

When Harry finally reached the Room of Requirement, he was seven minutes late. He paced impatiently in front of the blank wall, focusing on the training room, and waited for the door to materialize while tapping his toe.

As soon as the door was whole he quickly opened and then shut it behind him. Everyone was there already, and they stared at his abrupt – and late - entrance. He smiled apologetically and dropped his school satchel by the door against the wall, out of the way.

"What took you so long, mate?" Ron asked as he approached. Harry made sure he was turned away from Ginny and signed his reply.

_"I had to arrange something for tonight in the kitchen. Had to run all the way there from class and then all the way here."_

"Alright…well, everyone is waiting, so…you'd better get started. I guess I'll translate for you."

_"Thanks, but Hermione said she'd do the introduction."_

"Oh, alright then." Ron said. Harry walked to the back of the room, and Ron and Hermione stood beside him. He nodded at Hermione, letting her know it was okay to start.

"Thanks everyone for coming back. Umm…Ron and I will be translating for Harry, unless you learn sign-language. But…anyway…the reason the DA has been restarted is because we all need to know the most we can about combative magic. As you all know, we are at war again, and when we graduate we will probably need to fight at one point or another. We need to be prepared. So, that is why we are meeting again, to help each other refine our existing skills and learn new ones."

_"Okay, someone translate this. I'll be assessing skill levels today, to determine whether everyone can participate at an equal level. If we can't, then I'll be dividing the DA into groups and working with each individually. I want to get a feel for who knows what. So everyone line up."_

Ron translated Harry's words to the letter, and the students scrambled to form a line down the length of the room.

_"I want everyone to cast a patronus. You all remember that, right?"_ Again, Ron translated, and students nodded down the line.

_"Good, go on, then."_ Brows furrowed down the line, and wands came up in front of the students. Then, voices echoed around the room, exclaiming, _"Expecto Patronum!""_

Silver patronuses of various animal forms came from wand tips, and then proceeded to run, swim, fly, and slither around the room. Gradually they disappeared and Harry gave the next instruction.

_"Good. Now, I want you all to perform your best silent spell in combative magic, one at a time. Ron and Hermione, you two are included!"_ Harry signed, grinning.

Hermione translated while Ron groaned. The two of them got in line with the rest, and Harry nodded to Hermione, signaling for her to start.

After that exercise, Harry knew that silent magic would be what he would have to focus on. Almost none of the students, beside Hermione and Ginny, could perform a stunner silently well enough to be any use in a fight. Thankfully, everyone was at an even skill level so he didn't have to divide the DA into different groups. Which would have complicated matters.

_"Alright, here's what we're going to be doing. It's obvious almost none of you have yet gotten good at silent magic, and silent magic is a very useful ace up your sleeve. So, since you all know plenty of spells verbally, we're going to be working on combative spells silently. And I know that some of you have gotten by in classes by whispering the incantation. Please don't do that here…it defeats the point of coming. If you need help, I'll help. You don't have anything to prove. Okay?"_ Hermione translated, and students nodded, a few a bit guiltily.

Harry went on to explain the method of silent magic he had learned and now used, and then told the students to practice _stupefy_ silently. Many didn't succeed by the time he called an end to the meeting at four-thirty, but he hadn't expected them to master it just yet. He was going to have to be patient.


	26. Slytherin Pain

A/N: For all you romantics, I'm sorry but I REALLY had no interest in writing romance. I wanted to move on with the plot, not dwell on a mere side plot to this fic.

I do NOT own Harry Potter.

…

As the students began to file out of the door, Harry searched desperately for Ginny. He had to catch her.

After a few seconds, he caught sight of her red hair glinting in the dim light of the room, and he pushed his way through the crowd to reach her. She was walking away from him, talking to a sixth year Hufflepuff she had helped during the meeting, and so didn't see him trying to get to her.

It was at these little moments when he wished he still had his voice more than ever.

Finally he caught up with her just as she reached the doors to the Room of Requirement. He laid his hand on her shoulder to notify her of his presence, and she turned, slightly startled.

"Oh, Harry! I'm sorry, were you looking for me?" Ginny asked. The Hufflepuff was still there, staring at Harry. Harry ignored the other girl and nodded to Ginny.

_"I wanted to talk to you."_ He signed. _"You don't have any other plans for tonight, do you?"_

Ginny smiled.

"Funnily enough, I don't. Hold on, I'll just be a minute." Ginny said; then she turned back to the Hufflepuff and continued talking about the best way to visualize a stunning spell. Harry retreated to the back wall of the room and waited for her to finish her conversation as the rest of the students filtered out of the room.

Eventually the Hufflepuff turned to leave, and Harry walked over to Ginny.

"So what is it, Harry?" She asked.

_"I thought we could have our dinner together. I asked Dobby to make us a meal and bring it here…we can have our own private night. That is…if you want."_ He signed, a tad nervously even though she had already said that she didn't have anything else to do. What if she had changed her mind and she didn't want to be with him anymore?

But her face lit up in delight and the next thing Harry knew, he was holding Ginny in his arms.

"Of course I want to! I was so disappointed when they announced that Hogsmeade weekends were cancelled…I thought we wouldn't be able to have any time together, just the two of us. But you thought of a way around it!"

Harry smiled, feeling her hair under his cheek. He hugged her tighter, letting her know without letting her go that he was smiling.

…

Harry and Ginny said goodbye to each other three hours later. Ginny was headed back to the common room, while Harry had to go to his Astronomy lesson. They parted with a kiss.

Harry felt elated over the time spent with Ginny, but he was also still slightly disbelieving that such a wonderful girl would be even remotely interested in him. To him, it just didn't make sense.

But, he supposed that was part of what made Ginny so wonderful.

Harry strolled happily down a dark corridor which would take him to the Entrance Hall, and from there he would be able to get to the Astronomy Tower. He wasn't going to be late; he had left the Room of Requirement with enough time to spare.

His head was filled with Ginny. He marveled at how loving she was, how much she was willing to bear just by loving him.

Harry suddenly was thrown against the corridor wall. He went limp and slid down it until he was slumped against the wall on the ground, unable to move his body but still conscious.

His mind reeled. What had just happened? Why couldn't he move?

Then a figure came around the corner of the corridor and stalked towards where Harry was leaned helplessly against the wall. Harry watched the person approach, and then realization hit him like a falling giant when he saw the house crest on the student's robes.

The slytherins. They had finally made their move.

He berated himself inside his head. He should have been more careful, should have realized that now was a perfect time for the slytherins to get to him.

He heard more footsteps behind him and craned his neck to look. A group of five other slytherins were making their way towards Harry and their housemate, approaching confidently and without trying to quiet their footsteps. Why should they? This was a rarely used corridor, and only the seventh year gryffindors and slytherins were allowed in the corridors at this time because of the astronomy lesson. No one would be around to discover them.

The lone slytherin reached Harry and stood staring down at the helpless gryffindor, waiting for his companions to reach him. Harry couldn't see the slytherin's face as it was in shadow, but he could tell that he was a male and tall, with dark hair.

The other students reached them and Harry, despite himself, felt a little bit of fear flicker in his heart. There were six of them, all from either sixth or seventh year judging by their height.

They took his wand from his pocket and then levitated him, all without saying a word. They then started moving off down the corridor, back the way Harry had come. Harry wondered where they were taking him, but then remembered that there were several unused classrooms in the next passageway. That must be where they were heading.

Harry had guessed correctly. They entered a dusty classroom with the desks and chairs stacked against the back wall, with burnt out torches in sconces in the walls. It looked like it hadn't been used in years.

The slytherins set Harry down in the center of the room and then pulled out chairs for themselves. After a few _scourgifies_ they arranged the chairs in a circle around Harry, closing him in even if he could move.

He watched all this with a mounting feeling of dread. What were they going to do? It obviously wasn't a quick jinx, or they wouldn't have bothered to bring him here. Whatever they were planning was going to take a bit of time.

Finally, with the chairs arranged to their satisfaction, the slytherins took their seats and pulled out their wands. They lit the torches set in the walls with a few verbal spells, and Harry could finally distinguish their features. He recognized Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Daphne and Astoria Greengrass, as well as a couple of sixth years Harry had seen, but didn't know the names of. He glared at them, trying to convey all the choice insults that had built in his head but couldn't be said.

Parkinson cast a _muffliato_ charm on the room, and then they all turned predatory gazes on him. He felt his fear increase, but he tried to not let it show on his face.

He scowled darkly.

"_Finite Incantatum_." Zabini intoned, and Harry was suddenly able to move again. He got up slowly, watching them for any movement.

He wanted to scream at them. _What are you doing? Why can__'t you just leave me alone? _But his voice was trapped inside his head, forever doomed to never be heard.

Well, he certainly wasn't going to make a fool of himself trying to pantomime his insults and questions at them. He would have to settle for his mental voice.

"We've been wanting a word with you, Potter." Parkinson sneered. Harry raised his eyebrow, letting them interpret it however they wanted. _What about? Why are you dawdling, then? Really? How interesting._

"You see, we've heard that you are mute…" Parkinson continued in a falsely pleasant voice. Harry pretended to yawn, at looked at his wrist as if checking the time on a watch.

"But we wanted to know for certain whether it's true." Parkinson finished, beginning to scowl at Harry's antics.

He cocked his head at her and crossed his arms. _Really? Now how to you intend to find that out?_

"We're going to run an experiment." Daphne Greengrass said. "And you are the subject." _Ah, been delving into a few muggle science textbooks, have we, Ms. Perfect Pureblood?_

"We're going to figure out how many distressed noises you can make." Zabini said, smirking. Harry tried to appear unimpressed, rolling his eyes and tapping his foot as if to say, _this is all ridiculous. Get on with it._

"You act nonchalant now, but you just wait until we're finished. Then we'll see whether you still take us so lightly." Parkinson threatened. Harry again rolled his eyes, but inside he was truly frightened. What were they going to do?

Suddenly bright flashes of light burst from the wands of the slytherins, all of them aimed straight for Harry. He tried to duck but he didn't have enough time, and every single spell hit him.

Suddenly he felt extremely battered and sore, as if he'd been run over by a hippogriff. He looked at his arms and saw that they were covered in bruises.

Harry raised an eyebrow. _That__'s the best you can do? A bludgeoning spell we learned in second year?_

But then more spells came, their effects so numerous that Harry lost track of all the different things he was feeling. The slytherins kept shooting the spells, and Harry was forced to the floor by a partial paralyzing spell like the one he'd been subjected to before.

A minute or so passed, the only noises the slytherins firing their spells. Harry began to take register pain. They were using harmful curses now instead of irritating jinxes.

His breathing became labored as the pain mounted, all over his body. Then, finally, he started to sigh and huff, his new versions of moaning and grunting. The slytherins paused for a minute, trying to figure out why all of a sudden he was making strange breathy sounds. Then they figured it out, and resumed their torture with smirks.

Finally, Harry could not withhold himself any longer. He screamed. Screams that would have been agonizing to hear had they been audible. Again, the slytherins paused, wondering why his face was scrunched up and his mouth was hanging open. But once they figured out he was screaming, their smirks turned into grins.

Parkinson openly laughed in glee.

"What's that, Potter? You telling us to stop? I'm sorry, we can't hear you!" Parkinson taunted. Harry didn't have the energy to glare in return. His body was still in pain, and twitching from a few jinxes that were wearing off. He couldn't move either; his legs because of the paralyzing spell and his upper body from pain and exhaustion.

"If you told us to stop, we would, Potter! All you have to do is say the word!" Zabini said.

"No? Well, let's continue then!" Daphne Greengrass said cheerily, as if she were playing some game with a toddler.

More spells got fired, almost all of them painful. Their effect varied from uncomfortable temperatures to bruising to cutting. Harry started screaming again, because the pain just got worse and worse as they loaded spell after spell on him. It all piled up until it was like the cruciatus, and Harry could only focus on one thought: let it end.

Finally, the slytherins stopped, and Harry, delirious but still conscious, vaguely hoped that it was for good this time. He was staring blankly ahead, not really seeing anything.

"Come on, lets get him to the bottom of the staircase. It's nearly curfew, and we can't just leave him here. Someone has to find him." Zabini suggested.

They levitated him and took him out the door, through several corridors, and then down two flights of stairs. At that point, they let Harry fall back to the ground, causing him to "shout" in pain. They laughed, but didn't leave.

Zabini placed Harry's wand carefully inside Harry's robe pocket, and then stepped back.

"Let's finish up." Parkinson said. They all took a step back, and then four of them fired off one spell each, aimed at his arms and hands.

He heard cracks, and fiery pain shot up his fingers and arms. He screamed again, eliciting more sadistic laughs from the slytherins who then turned and walked away. He heard them talking about him as they left, their voices fading as they climbed down the flights of stairs.

His whole body throbbed. He was hot and cold at the same time, his skin was hurting where it made contact with the floor, and dozens of little cuts stung and bled all over him. Add to that the deep burning pain in his arms and hands, and he was wishing for unconsciousness.

He hoped someone – anyone – would find him soon. He needed to get to the infirmary, but there was no way he could get there by himself. His lower half was still paralyzed, and he couldn't drag himself down the stairs, especially with the way his arms were burning.

His only hope was that a patrolling prefect or teacher would find him, lying in the dark on a small staircase landing, without tripping over him and taking a tumble down the stairs themselves. He would even welcome Filch or Mrs. Norris; at least they would take him to the Hospital Wing.

He wondered how long he would have to wait while bearing his agony. The pain was not diminishing; if anything, he thought, it was increasing.

If only he could scream, truly scream. Then someone would hear him and come to his rescue.

He heard muttering, quiet with a little concern. He glanced up towards the wall, and saw that the people in the portraits were staring at him and talking to each other.

Maybe they could get help. He filled his eyes with as much pleading as he could and met several of their eyes, hoping that they would go and get someone to help him.

After a few seconds they started to run off through other portraits, in both directions on the wall. Harry let his eyes close. His message had been sent. Now he could only wait.


	27. Cleaning Up

I do not own Harry Potter.

…

Hermione was heading towards the Great Hall to hear which section of the castle she was supposed to be patrolling, and to inform Headmistress McGonagall that Harry had skipped Astronomy Class.

It had just hit the curfew time, and she hadn't seen another soul since leaving the common room. Ron hadn't needed to patrol that night, so he had stayed back and was currently defeating Dean at wizard's chess.

He really should be doing his homework, Hermione thought. She had thought that Harry had gotten better with his homework since he had been muted, but apparently not too much since he had skipped astronomy. She curled her lip. He really was terrible sometimes...but maybe he had just lost track of the time while he was with Ginny and then gone straight up to bed, realizing he had missed class anyway. Hopefully that was it; she would hate to think that he had purposefully neglected his education.

She had just reached the top of a series of staircases leading down to the Entrance Hall when a portrait caught her attention. A man, dressed in seventeenth century clothing, was trying to get her attention by saying, "Miss! Hello! This is urgent, I am sorry to disturb you but I would appreciate your attention!"

She turned to the distressed portrait man.

"Yes? What is it?"

"I am sorry for disturbing you, but there is a student lying at the bottom of a flight of stairs two staircases down. He seems seriously injured." The portrait said.

Hermione said a quick thank you and rushed down the stairs, her alarm spiking. Had the student fallen down the steps in a rush to get to his dorm before curfew? What if he was in fatal condition?

She stopped short halfway down the second flight of stairs, seeing the dark form that was the injured student. She couldn't see much, but she could tell from the way he was laying that he was either unconscious or was in too much pain to move his limbs to a more comfortable position.

She dashed forward once more and knelt at the student's side, then cast a lumos. She gasped when she instantly recognized Harry. His eyes were closed and his breathing was irregular, and there were small patches of blood seeping through his robes in several places. Where his robe sleeve had been pulled up she could see that his hand and arm were covered with dark bruising, and seemed swollen.

"Oh, Harry." she whispered. He opened his eyes at the sound of her voice. They were filled with pain.

"Don't worry, Harry, I'm here. Oh, what happened? H...hold on...I...I'll send for McGonagall and we'll get you to the infirmary..." she was simply talking, overcome by her concern for her obviously hurt friend.

She reined her emotions in and cast a patronus, sending it away to McGonagall with the message that Harry was seriously hurt and where to find them.

Then she turned her attention back to Harry. He had closed his eyes again, and she wasn't sure but he seemed to be lapsing into unconsciousness. She didn't know much about medicine, but she did know that sometimes it was dangerous for someone who was injured to "fall asleep." Sometimes they could enter a coma.

"Harry, don't black out on me. You can't. Stay awake; help is coming." Hermione said, trying to keep her voice calm. Hysterics would not help Harry right now; he needed something solid that he could use to keep himself awake.

He opened his eyes again and his eyes met hers. His mouth opened and closed a few times, and Hermione realized he was trying to speak, something he hadn't done in months.

She picked up his head and gently laid it on her lap.

"Shhh…shhh..." she whispered. He stopped, but he maintained eye contact with her.

Footsteps pounded up the staircase, and Hermione sighed in relief as McGonagall came into view trailed by the other prefects, who had followed her up.

"Headmistress, I don't know how but Harry's been hurt badly. It looks as if his arms and hands are broken." Hermione said as McGonagall rushed over.

"It is lucky you found him, Ms. Granger. We must get him to the infirmary immediately." Hermione gently laid Harry's head back on the ground and backed away so that McGonagall could take over.

McGonagall carefully levitated Harry and began to navigate down the stairs. "All of you go to your duties, except for you, Ms. Granger. Please get Mr. Weasley and come to the Hospital Wing. I think Harry would appreciate it." She called.

Hermione instantly rushed up the stairs and made her way to the tower as quickly as she could. She burst into the common room and pounded up the stairs to the boy's dormitory, as she didn't see Ron in the common room.

She had to withhold herself from simply barging into the dormitory, but she forced herself to knock.

"Yeah? Who is it?" Neville's voice called.

"It's Hermione, I need to see Ron. It's urgent." She called back.

She heard voices inside, and then Ron called, "Just a minute!"

"I don't have a minute! It's about Harry, now get out here or I'll come in there and drag you out myself!"

"Alright, alright, I'm coming!" Ron called back. Hermione stepped away from the door and wrung her hands worriedly. Couldn't Ron just hurry up? Harry needed them!

Finally Ron peeked out.

"What is it?" He asked.

Hermione reached forward, grabbed the collar of his pajama shirt and pulled him out.

"Harry has been hurt, a fall down the stairs it looked like. He's just been taken to the Hospital Wing, but he looked so bad, Ron..." Hermione rambled. Ron immediately set off down the stairs, finally realizing that this was truly serious.

She took off after him, and they made it to the Hospital wing in just over five minutes.

When they got inside the infirmary, Madame Pomfrey was hovering over Harry, hastily casting diagnostic spells. McGonagall was standing near, one hand covering her mouth. She turned when the doors opened to admit Hermione and Ron.

"I'm glad you two are here. Mr. Potter is still awake and seems to be in quite a bit of pain. He could use your support." She said.

"What happened?" Ron asked, walking quickly to Harry's side and meeting his friend's gaze.

"We obviously don't know for certain, as he cannot tell us. However, Ms. Granger found him at the base of a staircase. The most logical explanation is that he tripped and fell down the stairs." McGonagall informed them.

"How is he?" Hermione asked.

"My spells are showing that both arms and hands are broken, along with minor cuts and bruises all over. If a tumble down the stairs is indeed what happened, it was not simply one flight of stairs. He would have had to fall down both to have this many injuries." Madame Pomfrey informed them.

"Well, he'll be okay by Sunday, won't he?" Ron asked.

"He should be. He will have to take Skele-Grow for the bones and I should be able to heal the cuts and bruises with a few potions."

Madame Pomfrey hurried away to collect the needed potions, and Hermione came up beside Harry's bed. "You'll be alright in a little while, Harry." Hermione assured him.

...

(Harry POV)

"You'll be alright in a little while, Harry." Hermione said, leaning over him. He had been so immensely relieved when he opened his eyes to discover her leaning over him by the stairs. She had gotten help and now he was in the Hospital Wing, where Madame Pomfrey would heal him within a few days. Then he would get payback on those slytherins.

But in the meantime he was in a lot of pain, and Madame Pomfrey had not apparently discovered that it wasn't primarily the visible wounds on his body that were causing that pain, but magic. The curses should wear off soon, including that one that still paralyzed his legs, but until then he would have to deal with the pain.

"Do you hurt a lot?" Ron asked, and Harry weakly nodded, afraid to move.

"Your arms are the worst, right?" Hermione asked. Again Harry nodded, wincing slightly from the movement.

Madame Pomfrey came back, holding three vials of potions.

"Here, dear, swallow these quickly. I'll give you the potion for the pain first. The other two will heal the cuts and bruises you've got. Let me help you sit up." She said.

She helped him to sit up on the bed without using his broken arms and hands, and then held the potion vials to his lips one after the other. He gulped them all down quickly, not wanting to discover the nasty tastes that they were sure to have. Madame Pomfrey helped him lay back down.

"The skele-grow was not in the potions cupboard. I must have left it lying around somewhere; it will just take a minute. _Accio skele-grow_!" Madame Pomfrey said, but the frowned when no bottle of skele-grow came whizzing towards her. She cast the spell again, but again with no results. Harry began to get a feeling of dread.

Finally Madame Pomfrey tried the point me spell, but that was equally pointless. The wand simply pointed up, which generally meant that the particular thing you were looking for was not in existence.

She turned back to Harry with a torn look on her face.

"I am sorry dear. I'm going to have to have Horace brew another batch of it, which won't be ready until tomorrow night at the earliest. For now I will use a muggle splint to make sure that the bones don't get misaligned. At the moment that is the best I can do, I'm afraid."

Harry had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Of course something like this would happen to him. Madame Pomfrey summoned the necessary things to splint his arms and hands, and then cast a numbing spell on the injured areas. She then splinted his broken limbs, using a bandaging spell to secure the splints in place.

When she had finished he had splints encasing both his forearms and two oddly shaped splints keeping his hands and fingers immobile. He stared down at them, knowing that without his fingers and hands he was unable to sign or hold a pen.

"Is the pain leaving yet?" She asked, and Harry nodded. The spells the slytherins had used were wearing off, and the pain had also gone from his bruises and cuts. His arms were throbbing, but they weren't painful anymore and felt secure in the splints.

"I'm going to keep you here for the night, at least. Tomorrow morning I may release you until the skele-grow is ready, but tonight I think it is best that you stay where I can keep an eye on you and you can get some undisturbed rest." Madame Pomfrey said.

Harry nodded dismally. Didn't she realize the implications of his not being able to use his hands? They had been the only thing that he could communicate with, and now he was unable to use them. It didn't matter if they'd be better in a day or two, he _needed_them. In a way, he felt like he was becoming a mute for the second time in his life, except this time, there was no alternate means of communication.

"You two should go to bed." McGonagall advised as she turned to Hermione and Ron.

"Can we stay with Harry for a few minutes? We won't be long, I promise." Ron asked. McGonagall looked to Madame Pomfrey.

"They can stay, for a little while at least. I'm sure Mr. Potter would appreciate it?" She said, looking at Harry for his agreement.

He gave his conciliatory nod, and Hermione and Ron both came closer so that they could actually be with Harry. McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey walked a few paces away and began an inaudible conversation. Harry didn't miss the fact that they would keep glancing at him, making it clear that they were discussing him. He felt so _angry_ that he couldn't tell them, _it was those slytherins! They did this to me! _But it was trapped in him, and thanks to the slytherins he couldn't write his message either.

"That must have been a nasty fall, Harry. It's a wonder you didn't break your neck." Hermione said. His lips twitched.

"It seems a little odd, though. All those cuts, from a fall? The bruises and broken bones I understand, but…how did you manage to cut yourself that much falling down stairs?" Hermione said, as if talking to herself. Harry nodded, hoping she'd understand that he was not agreeing with her wonder about it, but was trying to tell her that she was onto something.

"Still, it isn't impossible…just unlikely." Hermione continued, not seeming to interpret Harry's nod for anything. He sighed gently in disappointment.

"You think you'll be better for the quidditch try-outs?" Ron asked uncertainly, glancing at Hermione in case she snapped at him for caring for something so trivial.

Harry shook his head. No, he wouldn't be better for the try-outs, most likely. Madame Pomfrey had said that the skele-grow wouldn't' be ready until the next night at the earliest. And even if he was released from the Hospital Wing in time for the try-outs, he would most likely be forbidden to play by Madame Pomfrey.

"Do you want me to post a notice in the common room then and delay them until Tuesday?" Ron asked. Harry again shook his head. Having the try-outs this early in the term would give them a head start in training. He wasn't willing to sacrifice that advantage, especially as he wasn't sure about how his silence would affect the game play.

"What do you want me to do then?" Ron asked, forgetting Harry could now only answer yes or no questions.

Harry weakly moved his arm towards Ron, so that it pointed at his friend.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ron asked, not harshly, just bewilderedly.

Harry frowned and nodded towards Ron, hoping his sometimes dense friend would figure out what Harry was trying to say.

"He wants you to do it, Ronald." Hermione finally said. "Is that right, Harry?" she asked, looking at him to make sure she'd gotten it right.

Harry nodded, and Ron stared at him, still confused.

"Me?" He squeaked. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Of course, you." She said.

"But I've never done anything like that in my life! I can't decide who will be on the team!" Ron said, actually panicking.

Again, Harry rolled his eyes, hoping Ron would understand that Harry was confident in his judgment.

"That's it, you two go to bed. It is past midnight now." McGonagall said, joining them. "We all need our rest."

"Goodnight, Harry. We'll come see you tomorrow." Hermione said.

"Yeah…'night, mate." Ron agreed. Harry nodded, and they walked away, following the Headmistress. Madame Pomfrey came over to Harry, pulled his wand from his pocket and took his whistle from around his neck. Harry had actually forgotten about the gift, although he put it on every morning when he saw it on his nightstand. But, looking back, he couldn't think of a moment when he would have been able to use it to call for help. There had only been the one moment when he had been able to move, but surrounded by the slytherins. They would have taken and broken it, most likely, had he tried to use it.

"Is there anything you need, Harry?" Madame Pomfrey asked, and then, realizing her mistake, rephrased her question.

"Do you want another blanket?" Harry shook his head.

"Water?" Harry shook his head again.

"Anything?" Harry again shook his head, and Madame Pomfrey gave up. She took his glasses and put them on the side table, and made sure that the blankets were snug around him.

"Alright then. If you need anything I trust you can make it to my office?" She asked. Harry nodded.

"Goodnight then." She said, and walked away through her office door.

Harry sighed. He had hoped that there would be some way of revealing the night's true happenings to his friends. But he hadn't been able to, and he doubted that the truth would come out until Monday or later.

Again he let out a heavy yet soundless sigh, and closed his eyes.

"_Why do things always happen to me?" _He hissed. _"I'm the orphan. The target of Voldemort. The one who has to kill or be killed. I'm the mute. The one who got beaten up. The one who can't tell anyone the truth. The one who's only audible voice can only be understood by animals and Voldemort! Why has life targeted me?" _

He wallowed in self-pity until his exhaustion took over, and he fell into a restless sleep.

…

Harry's eyes flew open as he woke with a gasp of pain from pressure on his arm. Something had encircled it and was squeezing, squeezing so tightly that the splint had bent and he could feel his broken bones shifting and grinding against each other.

Someone was standing over him, but he couldn't tell who it was because of his blurry vision and the darkness of the Hospital Wing. The person was gripping Harry's forearm tightly, and had a wand pointed at Harry's upper arm.

"If you try to make a single sound in any way I will break the rest of your arm. And don't worry about that whistle; it is safely in my pocket. I'll give it back if you cooperate." Said a female voice, but one Harry didn't recognize.

"I'm here to clean things up, so to speak, as Parkinson was too excited and forgot to fully cover her actions. You are going to make me an unbreakable vow that you will not sign, write, or share you memories about any of the slytherin students' actions tonight, and that includes mine."

Harry stared at where he thought the girl's face was, confused and angry. He couldn't make a vow even if he had wanted to. To make an unbreakable vow the magic had to hear your words.

"You're not stupid, Potter, despite what some of my housemates think. You can speak Parseltongue, as I recall. I've heard you hissing to yourself around school, when you think you are alone or no one is listening. I know you can still speak it." Harry stared, astonished. How did this girl know so much?

"And before you start thinking that vows don't accept Parseltongue, think again. I know for a fact that they do. I also wouldn't try to escape this by saying something completely different. I have a companion who will notify me if you say anything but what I tell you to, in which case I will break both of your arms so badly that the nurse will have to vanish the bones and grow them back from scratch." Harry vainly roamed his eyes over the room, trying to find some other person, someone who could apparently speak Parseltongue too.

"Oh, he isn't a person, Potter. He's someone more discreet, but be assured, he is here and will do his job."

Harry finally looked back to the girl and smirked. Why should he make this vow? Even if the girl broke his arms again, it wasn't as if he would make the vow after that. He would be able to share his memory of it, and someone would be able to identify this girl's voice. Then she, and the other slytherins who had beat him, would be expelled.

"Confident, I see. I know what is going through your head. It isn't going to work like that. You see…if you fail to make this vow I will hunt down your friends, and give them worse treatment than what you received at the hands of Parkinson. I'll even swear that on my magic, if you doubt me. They patrol the halls at night, alone. They would make easy targets for someone who knows where they are, don't you think?"

Harry gulped. This girl – whoever she was – was obviously a much better manipulator and strategist than the slytherins he had encountered so far. As far as he could tell, she had him backed in a corner and she knew it. He couldn't let her hurt his friends…but how did he know that she wouldn't hurt them anyway after he had made the vow?

Again, it was as if she read his mind.

"I swear on my magic that if Harry Potter makes an Unbreakable Vow to me that he will not write, sign, or share memories of any slytherin student's activity or identities tonight, I will not harm his friends while they are in Hogwarts." The girl said, and Harry saw her wand tip flash with light, signaling that the pledge was genuine. "I swear on my magic that if he does not make an Unbreakable Vow to me that he will not write, sign, or share memories of any slytherin student's activity or identities tonight, I will hunt his friends and curse them until they are close to death." Again, the wand tip flashed with light, and again Harry gulped.

"Are you ready to make the vow now?" The girl asked, and Harry could hear the smirk in her voice. He nodded dejectedly.

"Good. Clasp my hand; the Bonder has just arrived." Harry started, realizing that another shape had come up behind the girl that had been speaking.

"Are you completely blind? Take my hand!" The first girl said crossly. Harry saw a light colored shape near his hand, and he moved his hand hesitantly to clasp it as well as he could. The girl squeezed a bit, making Harry grit his teeth in pain, but he managed not to suck in a telltale breath.

"Good. We are ready." The girl said, and Harry felt a wand tip touch his hand.

"Do you, Harry Potter, vow that you shall never use sign language, written words, or memories to reveal the actions or identities of the students of slytherin tonight?"

Harry took a deep breath, and then, wondering if the girl had been bluffing about her Parseltongue-understanding companion but still not willing to take the risk, hissed the necessary reply.

"_I do."_ A ribbon of bright red came from the tip of the wand and coiled around Harry's and the girl's hands, binding their hands together. The tongue of light was there for a few seconds, and then it disappeared, sealing the vow.

"_Satisfactory."_ He heard, and realized that the word was spoken in Parseltongue. The girl didn't seem to notice, however.

"Oh, and don't worry about the portraits telling what they saw. I've got that covered." The girl said confidently. Harry wondered how; a portrait couldn't make a vow. Still, he was beginning to think that this girl was the type to follow through on her words. If she thought that the portraits were under control, he thought that they probably were. Which meant he was truly trapped with the truth.

A small object which he identified as his whistle landed on his lap, and then the slytherins left without another word, leaving Harry to his hopeless thoughts.


	28. Near Revelation

A.N. Thank you all for waiting this long! I realize that the last few chapters haven't had much happiness at all, but things should look up for Harry within the next few. Also, I now have a beta! Thank you, DaniPotterLovesGod!

I don't own Harry Potter.

…

The next morning, Harry was woken by Madam Pomfrey for breakfast. Although he tried to make her understand that he wanted to feed himself, she still insisted upon bringing every bite up to his mouth herself.

"You should only use your hands when absolutely necessary, Mr. Potter," she reasoned.

He pouted while eating, until he remembered the events of the previous night. Suddenly, being fed like a baby didn't feel humiliating, compared to what he had been threatened into vowing during the night. He went over the memory, wondering if there really had been a way out of making the vow. But he couldn't think of one. Nothing had been around him for him to make noise with, and the girl had taken his whistle. Not to mention that he had been practically blind, unable to see anything that would cause a noise.

Madame Pomfrey tore him from his musings as she transfigured his pajamas into school robes resembling a cleaner version of what he had been wearing the previous day.

"I'm letting you out of the Hospital Wing for the day, but I want you back after dinner tonight. You aren't to try lifting anything, and try to protect your arms. Alright?" she ordered, looking directly into his eyes to ensure that he got the message. He nodded, taking a deep breath. Leaving the Wing meant seeing the Slytherins. On the bright side, he would be surrounded by his friends and not be bored. He wouldn't be able to "talk" either way, but at least he'd have company if he left.

"I think your friends will be here any moment. Breakfast has just finished in the Great Hall, and I recall them saying that they'd be here to see you this morning." Harry again nodded.

"I'll fire-call Horace to get him started on that Skele-grow," she said, turning to enter her office. But she stopped and turned back to him. "Mr. Potter, let this incident be a lesson to you. You, more than anyone else, need to protect your hands and arms. I am well aware of the added value they have for you. Try not to get them crushed by a bludger in your wild Quidditch matches." Harry nodded, and she finally disappeared into her office.

Harry slumped on the edge of the bed, waiting for Hermione and Ron. He had to figure out some way to communicate to them what had happened. There had to be something that the Slytherin girl from the previous night had overlooked. He just had to find it.

He closed his eyes and submerged himself in his memories. He really had no wish to relive his experiences from the night before, but if he could separate himself from the pain of the memory and simply look at them analytically, he may notice some detail he could use to his advantage.

He pulled the wanted memory to the forefront of his mind and let it play out, seeing the Slytherins approach his prone form, hearing them taunt him as they sent varied spells at him, lying on the floor…

The floor! Spells left marks, as proved by the scorched walls of the astronomy tower. There should be some evidence of magic on the floor where Harry had lay, in addition to the blood that had surely seeped through his robes from where he had been cut. He had no memory of the Slytherins _Scourgifying _the floor, and it was still early in the day. If he could get there soon enough with Ron and Hermione, they may be able to put the pieces together.

He grinned triumphantly. This was it, he was sure.

A few minutes later the Hospital Wing door creaked open, and Hermione slipped into the room, followed by Ron.

"How are you, Harry?" Hermione asked. Harry shrugged in reply.

"Ah, there you two are," Madame Pomfrey said, coming from her office. "I'm releasing Mr. Potter for the day, but I want him back tonight. Make sure he doesn't strain his arms and hands. If he can help it, he shouldn't use them at all."

"We'll watch him, Madame Pomfrey," Hermione assured, glancing out of the corner of her eye at Harry. Predictably, he bristled at the idea of having to be looked after, but he could hardly protest.

"Good. I'll see you later, Mr. Potter," the medi-witch said, and then bustled back to her office.

Harry rolled his eyes at his friends as he slid off the cot and gingerly placed his wand in his pocket, with difficulty because of the splints.

"I hope Slughorn hurries with that skele-grow. I'd hate having all those things on me." Ron said, gesturing to Harry's arms. Harry nodded in agreement, and then started walking purposefully out of the infirmary. He was going to find his way back to that room by retracing his route to the astronomy tower. Ron and Hermione would, he hoped, catch on that he wanted to show them something and follow him.

For the first few corridors, they walked as a group, Ron and Hermione chattering, with Harry giving the occasional nod to appear as if he were paying attention to the conversation. But when he suddenly detoured from the usual route to the Gryffindor tower, Ron and Hermione stopped dead in their tracks.

"Harry? The tower is this way," Hermione called. Harry kept walking, even though he nodded to show he heard.

"Harry?" Ron called. Harry ignored him. _Come on, follow me._

Harry smiled when he heard footsteps rushing to catch up to him.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked, forgetting that Harry would be unable to answer. Harry just gave him a knowing look and nodded to the corridor ahead. Ron would simply have to be satisfied with that answer for the moment.

Several corridors later, Harry came to a stop. This was where he had been ambushed. He was certain. So, if he were right, the corridor the Slytherins had taken would be down the left and to the right…

He walked forward, glancing distractedly around.

"Harry, are you looking for something?" Hermione inquired, noticing his questing demeanor. He looked over his shoulder and nodded.

"What?" she wondered aloud, as Harry found the corridor he was looking for and ducked into it. Ron and Hermione followed, confused.

Five minutes later, Harry came to the room. He waited for his friends to catch up, and then he gingerly pushed the wooden classroom door open.

It hadn't been touched.

Harry grinned and moved further into the unused classroom.

"Why are we here, mate?" Ron asked, bemused.

Hermione, however, was frowning at the peculiar arrangement of the chairs in the center of the room. Harry took her hand and led her into the circle of chairs, wanting her to see the scorch marks and the dried blood on the floor. He wasn't disappointed, for she spotted the marks immediately.

"Ron, come here!" she gasped. Her finger reached down and touched the blood, while Ron came over curiously. He frowned when he saw the stains.

"Blood?" he asked. Hermione nodded, and then looked to Harry.

"Is this yours?" She asked. Harry nodded, and she frowned.

"So you didn't fall down the stairs." She surmised, and Harry again nodded encouragingly. All she had to do was connect the dots…remember his fear of the Slytherins.

"What happened?" Ron wondered, not actually asking, as he knew Harry couldn't answer.

"Harry can tell us once his arms are healed." She said, but Harry shook his head.

"Why not?" She asked. Harry's reply was just a steady stare, as he couldn't think of any way to explain the vow. He'd have to figure out some other means of communicating what had happened, then. And he'd have to find it soon.

...

Back in the common room, Harry sat with his friends while they did their weekend homework. They had a massive essay to write for Transfiguration, another essay for Potions, and some charts to fill out for Astronomy, in addition to more assignments that Hermione knew but Harry couldn't keep track of. Harry wondered how he'd get it all done, as he couldn't very well work on most of it then.

Instead, he preoccupied himself with memories of his parents. He hadn't had much time to "look through" them, but now he had more time than he needed.

"_You're not a very good artist, Padfoot," James Potter commented in one memory. He was looking over Sirius's shoulder as Harry's godfather tried to draw a simple picture of a broom. Sirius grinned._

"_I'm better than you are!" he teased. Lily entered the room, which seemed to be a kitchen. The table they gathered around was circular and plain wood._

"_I think Harry is better than both of you, and he's only ten months old," she joked. Her eyes found Harry, who realized that in this memory he was seated in a sort of highchair, with crayon stubs scattered in front of him. _

_James looked to his son with fondness. _

"_He does seem to enjoy this. What do the Muggles call those things again?"_

"_Crayons, James," Lily replied. "I used to use them as a child."_

"_They're very difficult to use," Sirius commented, his tongue poking out as he tried to use a thick crayon to draw his broomtail._

"_They're not meant to draw with, Sirius. They're just to add color," Lily explained. "For lines, Muggles use pencils or pens."_

"_Confusing," Sirius muttered, and James snorted. _

"_How do Muggles remember what to use for what?" He asked._

"_I suppose it is simply normal for them," Lily said dryly. "Just like quills were a new concept for me when I entered Hogwarts."_

"_I admit__…quills do take a while to learn how to use. But they still seem simpler," James mused._

"_That's because you grew up with them," Lily said, tapping her husband's nose with a fingertip playfully. Harry's attention turned back to the "art" he was attempting as a baby. It really was just a mess of scribbles, but it had made him happy to see all the colors streaking together. _

_Baby Harry grabbed another crayon stub and hurled it away. It hit Sirius' parchment and skidded, leaving a long blue streak across the drawing. Sirius threw his hands up in frustration._

"_That's it! Even Prongslet is against me!" James laughed, while Lily scooped up Harry._

"_He's just trying to help, I'm sure," she chuckled. "Isn't that right, Harry?"_

Harry pulled himself from the memory, sighing. How he wished he could have had the opportunity to truly know them. These memories were wonderful, but they weren't like the ones he truly remembered. They felt more like videos to pull out and watch, not personal experiences.

Suddenly, an aspect of the memory struck Harry. _Drawing. _That was it! The vow had stipulated written words, signs, and memories to be the banned methods. That didn't include drawn pictures.

That was how he could communicate the Slytherins' crime and the vow! He just had to draw a few pictures and show them to his friends. They would be able to piece it together, and then they could help him plot his revenge.

He deflated when he realized his setback. He wouldn't be able to draw until his hands had been healed. Still, at least he had thought of a way to get past the vow.

He smirked. Tomorrow he would be healed, and the first thing he would do would be to plot his payback, Ron and Hermione at his sides.

…

At dinner that night, Harry was surprised when Hedwig swooped down and dropped a letter onto his plate. He patted her awkwardly while trying to break the seal on the envelope with a single splinted hand. Ginny noticed his struggle and finally took the letter from him, broke the seal, and handed it back. He smiled in thanks, and then turned his attention back to the letter. It was from Remus.

_Harry,_

_I have only just heard about your incident, and I wanted you to know that I was heartbroken to hear of it. How are you faring? Well, I hope? Mrs. Weasley told me that you and your friends had worked out some sort of language using your hands, so that you are not without means of communicating. When I see you next, could you try to teach it to me, so that I can still understand you? I know that we do not see each other often, but I treasure the times I do get to see you._

_I'm so sorry I haven't been in contact sooner. I was unfortunately involved in things that I cannot discuss in a letter, but I wanted to let you know that I will see you during the Christmas holidays, provided you come to headquarters. I believe that the Weasleys shall all be there, and Ms. Granger was seeking permission from her parents as well. _

_Hoping I'll see you soon, Moony._

Harry frowned thoughtfully and slipped the letter into his pocket. He had begun to wonder why Remus hadn't contacted him yet, but obviously Remus had been busy doing something for the Order. Maybe Harry would find out what it was over the holidays.

…

That night at the Infirmary, Madame Pomfrey told Harry that the skele-grow would be ready in the morning. Harry sighed in relief. Soon, it would all be over. He allowed the medi-witch to help him get settled in "his" cot. He didn't let her take the whistle from around his neck, however. He had been caught once without it. It wasn't going to happen again.


	29. Plotting Payback

A.N. Thanks to reviewers! And thanks to DaniPotterLovesGod for betaing!

…

Harry woke the next morning feeling…eager. He couldn't help a little vicious grin from twisting his lips when he thought of how he was about to circumvent the vow and take his revenge on the Slytherins.

He managed to push his glasses on, and then noticed Madame Pomfrey busily moving vials around in the potions cupboard. She hadn't noticed that Harry had woken, but he was eager to take the Skele-grow and begin his plotting.

He slid off the cot and padded over to her. He got within a yard of her before she noticed his presence with a start.

"Oh, Harry! I didn't hear you coming," she said, standing. He smiled wanly. _I guess everything about me is quiet now._

"You'll be wanting some breakfast, I assume?" she asked. Harry nodded even though what he really wanted was skele-grow. She steered him back to the bed, where she then called a house-elf and asked for a tray of breakfast to be brought.

"The skele-grow will be ready in one hour, which gives you time to eat. Your friends will be here soon, I imagine, and I'm sure they'll keep you company for the day. You do realize that you won't be healed until dinnertime, correct?" Harry again nodded.

"I also realize that you have scheduled your team's Quidditch try-outs for tomorrow morning. You can hover in the air to observe the players, but you may not participate in any exercises. Understood?" Harry, again, nodded. Then he was saved from further head-bobbing by the appearance of a house-elf with his breakfast.

Ron and Hermione arrived soon after, to his delight. Unfortunately, Madame Pomfrey shooed them away so that she could take advantage of Harry's presence in the Infirmary to examine his neck.

The scans produced the expected results: nothing had changed. Harry didn't possess a single vocal cord. The medical reports seemed to remind Madame Pomfrey of the time when she discovered the terrible news. Her face softened, and she seemed to lose a little of her stern edge.

"I again want to say how sorry I am that I couldn't do anything for you, Mr. Potter. You really should have been sent to St. Mungo's as soon as I realized how severe the damage was, but there wouldn't have been anything they could have done to save your voice, either." Harry just nodded, his eyes downcast.

She then had him take a dose of the Skele-grow, and settled him back on the cot.

Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna came in. Apparently, Ron and Hermione had been joined by the other three while waiting to come back in.

"Sorry we didn't talk to you yesterday, Harry. I was so busy with homework that I didn't even know what had happened until dinner," Ginny apologized, giving him a gentle hug. He smiled, happy that she had come.

"Yeah. I can't believe how much homework there is. It's only a few days into the term!" Neville exclaimed.

"We have our N.E.W.T.S. this year. Of course we have lots of homework," Hermione huffed.

"Seems ridiculous." Ron grumbled.

"Well, when you leave it till the last minute of course it will be difficult, Ronald!" Hermione admonished. Ron rolled his eyes and shot back another retort. Harry smiled at his friends' bantering. At least he'd be entertained for the day.

Harry listened to his friends converse for most of the day. During this, he tried to ignore the pain in his arms from the Skele-grow. Lunch was brought to them, and Ginny helped Harry to eat, much to his embarrassment. But he admitted that he probably, at that point, wouldn't have been able to feed himself. His arms felt as if they were on fire.

By mid-afternoon, the pain was beginning to lessen. Harry began to take part in the conversation as much as he could, nodding or shaking his head when asked a question, or making dramatic facial expressions to convey his own emotion on some matter. They laughed together at Harry's expressions, and giggled behind their hands at Luna's strange comments.

Despite the fact that he was in the Hospital Wing, _again_, Harry loved those few hours. It was just him and his friends, laughing together, forgetting about everything that was wrong with the world.

Finally dinnertime rolled around, and Madame Pomfrey shooed all his friends away from Harry's cot so that she could remove the splints.

Cool air brushed Harry's clammy skin. His arms suddenly felt very fragile without the stabilizing splints.

"Now, even though you may not feel it, the skele-grow is still working at the deeper parts of your bones, so be careful not to go banging into anything. They could break quite easily, and will be a bit tender until the morning. Remember what I said about the Quidditch," Madame Pomfrey said, her wand meanwhile busy running magical scans on Harry's arms to determine that they were, in fact, ready to face the outside world once more.

Harry nodded, as usual.

"_Hermione, ask her if I can go now." _he signed, carefully. His fingers still felt as if they could snap.

Hermione grinned and translated happily.

"Yes, you may go. But be careful!" the medi-witch admonished. Harry was already on his feet and headed out the door, busily signing the words he had kept inside all day.

"_Thank goodness those things are off. I felt like I was becoming mute for the second time in my life!" _Harry signed emphatically.

"It was strange not being able to have a proper conversation with you. I wanted your opinion on the likelihood of nargles allying with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Luna said, surprising him by signing her words at the same time. She had obviously only been learning the basic signs, as she made a few mistakes, and her syntax was completely wrong, but it was understandable.

"_You're signing!" _Harry said, his arms jerking with surprise.

"Yes, I am," Luna said. She looked at her arms as if just realizing that she had signed as well as spoken.

"Harry…what happened? You haven't been able to tell us, and I've seen something in your eyes…" Hermione said, trailing off. They all stopped and turned to stare at him.

"_I__…I honestly cannot say."_

"You don't know?" Ron asked, confused.

"_I know, but I can't tell you." _

"Why?" Neville asked.

"_I can't say."_

"This has to do with that classroom you showed us earlier, correct?" Hermione said.

"What classroom?" Ginny asked. Ron began to explain to her in hushed tones as Hermione continued her questioning.

"_Yes, it does."_

"Well, we already figured out that you didn't fall down the stairs…" Hermione said, pondering the information she had.

"_Let's get to the common room, and I'll show you there."_

"Show us? How? I thought you wouldn't tell us?" Ron asked.

"_No, I can't tell you. It's not that I will not. There's a difference. Come on, I need to explain. I've wanted to since yesterday."_

"Let's go to the Room of Requirement, since Luna can't come in the common room," Neville suggested.

They walked to the Come-and-Go room without much more talk, all curious about the strange puzzle Harry had offered them. Ginny tried to get more information from him, but because of the vow, he couldn't answer her questions.

When they reached the room, Harry opened it. They entered to find a seating area, along with a small stack of parchment and a Muggle pencil resting on a table. Harry smiled and gestured towards the supplies. He started drawing the Slytherin crest immediately. His friends stood around where he had sat, watching what he was doing with interest.

He finished the Slytherin crest and gave it to Hermione. He began to draw a wand with a sort of mist coming out of it, aimed at a bolt of lightning meant to represent himself. It was meant to represent a spell cast at him, but Harry was afraid that he had inherited his father's inability to draw.

He handed that also to Hermione, and then attempted to draw two hands clasped together with a wand hovering over them, a tendril of magic wrapping around the hands. Again, it certainly wasn't a masterpiece, but he hoped that his friends would be able to recognize the scene of the making of an Unbreakable Vow.

He drew a question mark by the wand and one of the hands, and a lightning bolt by the other hand. He also drew a miniature Slytherin crest under the hands, as well as a question mark, a scribble meant to represent handwriting, a hand for sign language, and a bowl with some mist coming out of it for a pensieve. He hoped that those symbols would allow his friends to understand what the vow had been about.

He handed this last drawing to Hermione and then stared at her, hoping she would be able to figure out what had happened from the crude drawings.

Hermione frowned and laid the sketches out on the table. Harry arranged them so the picture of the Slytherin crest was positioned next to the picture of the wand, so that it was clear that the Slytherins had been the ones casting spells. He put the picture of the vow after those two, to make it clear that the vow had been made after he had been ambushed.

No one spoke, instead staring at Harry's drawings and trying to make sense of them. Predictably, it was Hermione who began to understand first.

"Harry…this represents Slytherins hexing you." Hermione concluded, pointing to the first two pictures. Harry nodded; after all, he was confirming what she said, not telling her what happened.

"In that classroom…the chairs were arranged around the spots of blood. That's where it happened?" Hermione asked. Harry again nodded.

"So there were six of them because there were six chairs…" she muttered. "What does that last one mean?" she wondered.

"That's what two people making an Unbreakable Vow look like," Luna said. Everyone turned to look at her.

"It's true. When someone makes an Unbreakable Vow, they clasp their hand with the person they are making the vow to, like this. See?" she said, grasping Ron's hand to demonstrate.

"Then, another person called the bonder uses his magic to make the vow. He has his wand pointed at the hands, and little tendrils of magic come out and wrap around the hands." Luna explained.

"Those symbols must mean the Slytherins, and the other two people were involved in the vow…"Ginny said, pointing at the miniature Slytherin crest and the question marks.

"That one's a pensive," Neville said, pointing to the bowl. "My gran has one."

"And the hand must mean sign language…" Hermione murmured.

"And that scribble is writing." Ron said.

"So…the Slytherins ambushed you, and then someone unidentified got Harry to make an Unbreakable vow that he wouldn't sign, write, or share memories about any of it," Hermione said, frowning. "But how could you make a vow, Harry?"

"_I used Parseltongue."_He hissed. They didn't understand the words, of course, but the meaning was clear enough.

"Of course!" Hermione exclaimed. "But…how did they know you could still speak Parseltongue?" Harry shrugged.

"This is serious, Harry. Why did you make the vow in the first place?" Ginny asked. Harry took the picture of the wand and pointed it at each of his friends in turn. Ginny's eyes widened.

"They threatened to hurt us if you didn't make it?" she murmured. Her face was pale as fury-filled eyes gazed into his. Harry nodded.

"I'm so glad you found a way around it, Harry…we need to tell McGonagall," Hermione decided. Harry shook his head vehemently. At first, he had only wanted to tell the teachers. But now, he wanted to craft his own form of revenge.

"Why not?" Hermione asked.

"_I want more than just getting them a suspension," _Harry signed reluctantly. How could he tell his friends that he wanted to make them hurt, wanted to make them feel the kind of pain and helplessness he had felt?

Deep down, he knew that these emotions probably stemmed from his connection with Voldemort, but he _wanted _them. They felt…right.

He noticed that Ginny narrowed her eyes, probably knowing what he had left unsaid but not mentioning it.

"Can we talk about it later? I'm hungry," Ron complained. Harry cast a _tempus _charm and saw to his surprise that dinner had started fifteen minutes ago.

"_Well, we'd better get to the Great Hall quickly, then," _Harry joked. There were a few half-hearted chuckles as they all got up and made their way out into the halls, but Harry could see the anger in his friends' eyes. They were furious with what the Slytherins had done to Harry, and, even though they and Harry wanted it in different forms, they wanted revenge too.

"_Look, don't go and tell the teachers, okay?"_Harry signed over dinner as Hermione made yet another whispered comment about telling the teachers what had happened.

"But McGonagall is right there…" she protested.

"_I don't want to tell them." _Harry signed, his hands jerking angrily.

"Alright, alright, I won't tell. But Harry, they have to know eventually," Hermione conceded.

"What are we going to do? I could ask Fred and George for some prank ideas…" Ron said.

"_No__…I don't know what we'll do yet. I'll think of something." _

"Harry, can I talk to you privately after dinner?" Ginny asked.

"_Sure."_

"Thanks." Harry could see the suppressed emotion in her eyes. While Ron was eager to devise payback, and Hermione concerned that the staff hadn't been informed, Ginny was suspicious. She suspected the thoughts that were streaming through his mind, the ones that he _should _tuck away in some corner of his brain and never think of again, were finding a special place in Harry's heart. She could tell he wanted blood, and he wasn't at all rejecting that train of thought.

Harry finished his dinner with apprehension. He didn't want to talk about his thoughts with Ginny; he knew she would be horrified. But…if he couldn't trust her, he may as well not trust a soul for the rest of his life.

Finally, he and Ginny were both finished, and the two of them left the Great Hall silently. Ginny led him into an unused classroom a few corridors away, with dust-covered desks and a blackboard still marked with chalk.

She erected a privacy ward, and then met Harry's stare dead on.

"What _are _your plans for the Slytherins? I know that you must have some idea of what you want to do to them." Ginny said. Harry hesitated.

"_I want to hurt them."_He finally admitted. Ginny was unsurprised.

"That's what I thought. You must realize, Harry, that you can't let these emotions get a hold on you."

"_I think they have already, Ginny. I've been brooding on this for two days now. And besides that, I__…_" Harry trailed off.

"You agree with your thoughts."

"_I don't want them, but at the same time, I want to accept them with open arms," _Harry signed, avoiding Ginny's stare. She sighed.

"I can't say I blame you. I can't imagine what you've been going through, losing your voice…and it must have been horrible not even to be able to sign. If someone purposely prevented me from communicating, even temporarily…I guess I would want to make them hurt too," Ginny said. "But, keep in mind that even though they may deserve it, taking your own revenge is not the best thing to do." Harry cocked his head inquisitively.

"_You have a better idea?"_

"Yes. Tell McGonagall, Harry. If you go after them, hex them, make their life at Hogwarts a misery…it will all be temporary. You will never be satisfied, because once it's all said and done, they will still graduate, they will move on with their lives and forget all about their last year at Hogwarts. But, McGonagall can expel them. If that happens, they're going to have really hard time getting jobs in the magical world. It will affect their whole lives." Ginny suggested, a cunning gleam in her eyes.

"_You're right. You could be a Slytherin."_Harry joked, a smile tugging gently at his lips.

"I thought that that was you." Ginny replied, smiling. Her eyes glinted playfully, and she took a step towards Harry. He stepped towards her. And they were very suddenly, unexpectedly, kissing.

"Harry? Ginny?" Hermione called, opening the classroom door. The two in question broke apart quickly, blushing.

"Uh…we were just talking about the Slytherins." Ginny explained.

"I see," Hermione said with a raised eyebrow.

"_Ginny says that if we tell McGonagall, the Slytherins could be expelled."_

"More than that, I should think. I'd imagine that the specific Slytherins who were involved would be sentenced to Azkaban for a while, as long as they are of age." Hermione mused.

"Azkaban?" Ginny asked, shocked.

"Well, yes. For a few months at least. I mean, they committed assault, and on Harry Potter, no less. That's a crime against one of the most famous wizards in England," Hermione explained. "If we can figure out a way for Harry to communicate their names, then the ones who are of age will be in a huge amount of trouble. The others will have their wands broken, I'd imagine."

Harry's eyes were bugging out of his head. He had never thought about it all this way before…he hadn't realized just how serious the actions of the Slytherins were, viewing them as a violent sort of school bullying. But now that Hermione had explained it…he realized that he had indeed been the victim of crime.

"_That puts a new perspective on things," _Harry mused.

"Still one problem. Harry has to communicate the names of those involved," Ginny pointed out.

"I'll look for something." Hermione assured. "There has to be some way he can do it without breaking the vow."


	30. A New Spin On the Situation

Thanks to my beta, and to those who reviewed!

I do not own Harry Potter.

…

Harry went to bed that night pondering what he had discussed with Ginny and Hermione. He had been thinking as if this was some sort of violent prank war, but in reality the Slytherins had committed magical assault. The penalties for that, according to Hermione, would be a sentence to Azkaban for the Slytherins who were of age. And at least four of them were. For the other two, being expelled was a definite, along with the breaking of their wands and a ban on using magic, like Hagrid.

That was a much better revenge than anything Harry could think up and carry out on his own. It would completely destroy their preconceived lives.

…

The next morning Harry woke early for the Quidditch try-outs. Hopping out of bed, he saw that Ron had not yet woken.

Padding quietly over to his best friend, Harry shook Ron's shoulder, trying to wake him.

"Wha…" Ron grumbled, opening one eye a crack. Harry started pushing Ron up and down against the bouncy mattress, and Ron completed opening his eye.

"Why can't you just _tell _me to wake up, you foul…" Ron grumbled, breaking off when he realized that it was Harry shaking him. Harry raised an eyebrow, and crossed his arms across his chest.

"Oh. Sorry mate. What time is it?" Ron asked, blushing slightly from his mistake.

"_We've got the Quidditch try-outs this morning."_ Harry signed, ignoring Ron's question.

"Oh! Alright, I'm getting up." Ron said hastily.

Thirty minutes later, they were on the Quidditch pitch. Harry hovered on his Firebolt, watching the candidates compete to prove their skills.

Harry frowned thoughtfully. The girl he had spoken to the other night, Brianna, was doing well. He thought that she would be one of the Chasers he would choose, along with a sixth year named Kevin Williams. Ginny was the third, of course.

As for Beaters, a fourth year named Brendon Davis seemed good on a broom and had good aim. A fifth year…Micah…seemed like he would be the next best choice.

Harry cast a tempus charm and saw that it was time to bring the session to an end. They still had to stow the brooms in the locker rooms and get back up to the castle before breakfast ended.

Harry took hold of a whistle – his Quidditch whistle, not the one Ginny had given him – and gave a long, piercing blast on it to signal everyone to land. He led the way down and landed next to Ron.

"Anyone stand out?" Ron asked.

"_Brianna and Kevin Williams for Chasers, and Brendon Davis and that Micah what's-his-name for Beaters," _Harry signed awkwardly, trying to keep his Firebolt from falling where it was pinched between his upper arm and side at the same time.

"Your mind made up, then?" Ron asked.

"_I'll have to think a little more about the reserve team, but for now we can announce the players who got onto the primary team. Tell them I'll post a notice in the common room listing the reserve team members."_

"Alright, you lot," Ron shouted, getting everyone's attention. "Harry's decided the primary team members, but the reserve team will be posted in the common room later. Um…what were the names again, mate?" Ron asked, turning to Harry.

"_Brianna Henning and Kevin Williams are the Chasers. Brendon Davis and Micah...Smith are the Beaters."_

"Right. So, the Chasers are Brianna Henning and Kevin Williams. The Beaters are Brendon Davis and Micah Smith," Ron announced. Instantly, a cacophony of voices filled the pitch with people shouting in victory or grumbling in defeat. Harry simply turned and began walking to the locker rooms, and Ron rushed to catch up. The other students followed some yards behind, talking all the way.

"Well that went well," Ron said brightly.

"_Still got to decide the reserve team,"_ Harry said. Ron groaned. "_And we're going to have to have an increase in the number of practices. I have no idea how it's going to work out, what with me being mute."_

"It'll be fine, mate. You'll see," Ron reassured.

They were in the Great Hall ten minutes later, trying to wolf down something for breakfast before classes began. Most students were already finished, and a few were already leaving for classes.

"Guess Hermione's already gone to classes," Ron commented as they finished up.

"_Or she skipped breakfast in order to get some time in the library_," Harry suggested.

"Yeah. Mental, that. Why would she want to read instead of eat?"

"_Beats me_," Harry replied, smiling.

"Hey. Have you thought of anything to get revenge on the snakes yet?" Ron asked, lowering his voice.

"_No, I think I'm actually going to let McGonagall know."_

"What?"

"_Hermione said that if we tell McGonagall, the Slytherins will all be expelled. Plus, the ones that are of age will probably get a sentence to Azkaban, and the ones that aren't seventeen yet will have their wands broken. That would ruin their whole lives, not just their last year here."_

"But…what if they just go and join You-Know-Who if they get expelled?" Ron asked quietly. His question made Harry frown in thought.

"_Well__…I don't know. The ones who get sent to Azkaban…"_

"But what if they _don't _get sent to Azkaban? What if their parents pull strings in the Ministry and they are free to roam? Even if they get banned from using magic then they could always get a new wand in Knockturn Alley or out of country. Then they'll go and be You-Know-Who's newest Death Eaters."

Harry rubbed his temples. Ron had just thrown a whole new spin on the situation.

"_At least they won't be in Hogwarts where they can cause trouble. Remember what Malfoy did last year."_

"Yeah, but in Hogwarts we could keep an eye on them. And they'll cause plenty of trouble wherever they are," Ron pointed out.

"_But we can't just let them roam free in a school full of kids!"_ Harry protested, his hands moving sharply with emotion.

"I don't know, mate. I'm just saying, at least we'll be able to tell if something is up if they're still here."

Harry sighed heavily.

"_Well, either way, we've got to go to class. I can't figure this out now__…maybe Hermione and Ginny will be able to decide."_

…

"Just talk to McGonagall about it, Harry. When we tell her, we can tell her about all our suspicions and she can deal with it," Hermione advised as they walked to lunch later on.

Harry and Ron had managed to catch both her and Ginny on the way to lunch and explain their fears of the Slytherins joining Voldemort. Neither of them had thought of that possibility.

"But…does it really matter if they join him?" Ginny asked with a thoughtful frown. "And you can't even be certain that they _wouldn't_ be sent to Azkaban."

"Well, we don't know if they've actually joined him yet. They may just be waiting for something to happen so that they are free to follow him," Hermione explained.

"But a few Death Eaters just of age won't make too much difference, would they?" Ginny asked.

"We can't tell, Ginny. They might end up telling all sorts of Hogwarts secrets and such," Ron said.

"As I said, we should let McGonagall deal with it. We're only seventeen – and sixteen –and this is something beyond our capabilities. We need to let someone more experienced handle this," Hermione said reasonably.

"What do you say, Harry?" Ron asked as they sat down at the Gryffindor table. He kept his eyes on Harry's hands to see his reply while somehow managing to serve himself his favorite foods at the same time.

"_Honestly, I think Hermione is right. I can't figure out what to do on my own, and I'd be an idiot not to admit that. I can't make heads or tails of politics, and that is what would pretty much decide this whole thing. And McGonagall has a right to know if there are students willing to assault others in her school."_

Hermione grinned and Ron just nodded.

"I think that is a very mature decision, Harry," Hermione beamed, proud at his newfound "maturity."

"So no revenge?" Ron asked around a bite of fried chicken, disappointed. Harry shrugged in response as he managed to fill his own plate with food. He, unlike Ron, couldn't talk while eating, something Ron sometimes seemed to forget. But it made him smile, anyhow. Ron would get the message eventually.

…

All through the rest of the day, the group was aware of the triumphant looks certain Slytherins cast at Harry, and they soon began to make guesses as to who had actually attacked him. Harry grew frustrated with the constant bombardment of names and pointed fingers from his friends. The actual Slytherins still hadn't been guessed, unfortunately. He noticed that the snakes who _had_ attacked him weren't acting any different from how they usually did, not making a point to sneer while also not being conspicuous with lack of condescension. In other words, they were careful not to stand out, instead blending in with the rest of their housemates.

Eventually Harry told his friends to stop guessing, as it wasn't getting them anywhere.

…

Later that night, Harry remembered the letter from Remus. He still needed to reply. After all, Remus had just found out Harry was a mute. It would be horrible of Harry not to tell Remus about what had been going on since the end of sixth year.

He quickly finished his essay on human transfiguration and its uses and pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment, preparing to reply to Remus. Hermione, however, spotted the letter and had to ask about it.

"_It's a letter from Remus; I received it a few days ago. He only just found out I'm mute," _Harry explained, and then hurried to ink his quill so he had an excuse not to get drawn into a conversation. His hands were tired after being freshly healed and from so much signing and writing. After this letter, he was going to bed.

_Dear Remus,_

_I can't say I've been fine. But I'm not depressed or anything, so you don't have to worry. The Slytherins have been__…bothering me, and the worst part is not being able to shoot back all the retorts stored up in my head. It's frustrating, but Ron and Hermione have stuck by me and they have a few comebacks of their own._

_Yes, Hermione basically taught us all a Muggle language invented for the deaf and mute. It's called sign language; you can get books on it from a Muggle bookshop. I'll be happy to help you learn it. It was brilliant of Hermione, honestly, to remember it. I don't know what I would do without it. Nearly all the Weasleys have learned it to some extent, and Hermione knows it all, of course. Even Neville and Luna are learning, and Hermione is determined to start a group for teaching it. I don't know how successful that will be – I mean, why would students with other things to do want to learn a language that is really only useful when talking to a single person in the wizarding world? But it makes me happy anyway, knowing she wants to make sure I'm not alone._

_I'll certainly be at headquarters for the holidays, especially if that is where everyone else will be. I'm looking forward to seeing you, and hearing what you've been doing. _

-_Harry_

Satisfied, Harry waved the parchment to dry and then rolled it up, ready to send with Hedwig in the morning.

…

A week later they were introduced to their new Defense teacher.

Harry was surprised, to say the least, when he walked into Defense class expecting to see McGonagall and instead saw Charlie Weasley. Ron was no less surprised.

"Charlie!" he exclaimed. Charlie chuckled.

"Hello, Ron," he greeted. "Though, it is Professor Weasley now, thank you very much." Ron's jaw dropped.

"You're the new defense professor?" Ron asked. "What happened to your dragons?"

"Yes, I am, and I thought that I should be near my family with this war going on. I'll go back to Romania when all of this is over." Charlie explained. His eyes found Harry, coming up behind his best friend.

"Hello, Harry. How are you doing?"

Harry shrugged, moving a hand back and forth in the air to communicate "so-so." Charlie hadn't learned anything more than finger-spelling in sign language.

"How've you been getting on with classes?" Charlie asked. Harry gave him a thumbs-up.

"Harry's been doing brilliantly," Hermione commented, also joining them. "His magical power has increased tremendously."

"Glad to hear it. You three had better take you seats, class is about to begin."

…

Defense Against the Dark Arts with Charlie Weasley was interesting. The new professor began by going over the dos and don'ts of dueling, as well as the most-used strategies and how to counter them. He taught them how to use a combination of spells to have a desired effect: for instance, using a tripping jinx to cause an opponent to fall into another spell.

Charlie said they would be getting into the more practical side of things in a few weeks, but first he wanted them to have strategies and theories under their belts so that they weren't simply hurling random curses at opponents.

When he released them, many students were discussing what they had just learned, and coming up with their own strategic ideas. It was proof that he was a good professor. Lousy teachers didn't inspire their students' conversations after class with their lessons.

…

The next few weeks passed without much incident, apart from Harry's friends finally guessing that Pansy Parkinson had been involved in the attack on him. They still had to figure out who else had been involved, though, and a way for Harry to actually tell them the names.

Harry thought that this year was the best year, professor-wise, that they'd ever had. Slughorn was still astoundingly short-sighted, but he was an able teacher and most students grasped the concepts he had been teaching.

The Transfiguration teacher proved himself to be competent, if a little forgetful, and fair. He managed to teach them the numerous and complex spells involved in simple human transfiguration without making it actually seem tedious, something which earned him the gratefulness of his students.

Charlie was simply brilliant, making his class both interesting and competitive. He encouraged his students to be creative and come up with their own tactics, and then let them try their strategies out in duels.

And it was such a relief not to have to deal with Snape, the slimy traitor.

As Harry gained his confidence in silent magic, he began to experiment. He tried to create his own 'spells' – pieces of magic that actually had no incantation but were formed only by Harry's intent. He also began to dabble more thoroughly in wandless magic, attempting simpler spells while in private without the so far crucial aid of his wand. So far he hadn't had any success.

Dumbledore's Army had also been taking up a good portion of his time. He was still waiting for a proficiency in simple silent magic before trying to move on to more complex spells. He was frustrated with the lack of progress. He understood that silent magic was difficult to master, but over a month into term he had expected that they would have made more headway.

He _was_ pleased with the Quidditch team, though. The new members were fitting in perfectly, and the three chasers had developed a brilliant level of teamwork. Harry fully expected them to beat the Ravenclaws in two months in the first game of the year.

Harry had also managed to go on a few "dates" with Ginny, despite the lack of Hogsmeade weekends. Mostly he relied upon the house-elves for private meals in the Room of Requirement. A few times, though, the two of them settled for just an abandoned classroom and themselves. Sometimes, those were the best moments, Harry thought, smiling.

Hermione, meanwhile, had gotten together the sign language group. Harry hadn't gone, but Hermione had said that nearly the entire DA had begun attending. A few other Ravenclaws had also made an appearance, attracted to the idea of learning something unique.

…

Harry sat in the library, wearily skimming through books on wandless magic. When September passed into October, Hermione had suggested that instead of trying to perform the magic straight off, he should read up on the theory so that he knew exactly what it was he was trying to accomplish. Harry, without a better idea, had taken her advice and had been coming to the library every day in his spare time. Ron, needless to say, thought he had gone "mental."

Harry called it desperation.

At the moment he was trying to read through a moderately sized text entitled _The Mastery of Wandless Magic_. It was a fairly recent publication, with moving diagrams and pristine white pages.

So far, however, it hadn't been very helpful. It only gave an introduction to wandless magic and warned that not many witches or wizards could actually do it. Harry was about to give it up and call it a night when the opening to the next chapter caught his eye:

_The first step to truly mastering wandless magic is to become aware of both the position and activity of your magical core. This is something few wizards or witches have managed to accomplish, as it requires the use of basic Occlumency to quiet your mind and instead focus on your magical core._

_To find your magical core requires you to enter a trance-like state nearly identical to the state in which it is possible for an Occlumens to "discover" old memories. The main difference is that one cannot merely call his magical core into his awareness; instead he must find the place within himself where his magic is stored and "enter" the magical area, thereby creating a direct link between the mind and the magical core._

_This is one of the most dangerous tasks a witch or wizard can undertake. If a witch or wizard's mind is not strong enough to handle the direct connection with their magical core, insanity and sometimes death can ensue. Another possible reaction is a ruptured core, causing the witch or wizard in question to become a squib after a violent release of magical power._

_If the connection is successful, however, there are many benefits. These include increased magical power, an awareness of magic levels, and better power control in the casting of spells. The most sought after result, though, is the ability to channel and direct one's own magic, enabling wandless magic._

Harry snatched the book up and hurried back to Gryffindor Tower. He now knew what he had to do.


	31. Key to Power

I don't own Harry Potter (probably for the best).

…

When Harry arrived back at the common room, he made a beeline for Hermione and Ron, who were engaged in completing their homework. Harry opened the book he had taken from the library up to the paragraph about magical cores as he walked.

He slammed the book down on the table. His friends jumped. He had their attention. He pointed to the paragraph without any explanation, and Hermione quickly read through it.

When she looked up again, her brown eyes lit up in glee.

"You've found it, Harry! This is what you've been missing!" she exclaimed. Ron, who was just finishing reading the paragraph for himself, frowned.

"This is scary stuff, mate. I mean, squibs, death and insanity? Do you really want to do this?"

"_It will help to even the odds between myself and Voldemort,"_ Harry offered.

"If it works. If not…"

"_I know it's dangerous, Ron. But I think I need to do this. I already have basic Occlumency skills, and I've entered that trance the book talks about. It shouldn't be too difficult."_

"Both of you have decent points. But Harry, I think you should do some more research on this first. Maybe there's a test or something that tells you if you'll be able to handle it," Hermione reasoned.

"_You think so?"_

"I don't know, but you could always ask Madame Pomfrey. If there's a test of any kind she would know," Hermione suggested.

"_If there isn't a test I'm doing it just the same,"_ Harry warned.

"That is what I thought," Hermione sighed.

Forsaking their essays, they headed immediately to the Infirmary. Madame Pomfrey was not exactly pleased to see them.

"What have you done now, Mr. Potter? I swear, you should just move into the Hospital Wing," The medi-witch huffed. Harry prodded Hermione, hoping to escape Madame Pomfrey's 'care.'

"We're not here because any of us is ill, Madame Pomfrey. Harry actually had a question," Hermione explained.

"Well get on with it, I don't have all night."

"Is there any kind of test to determine whether a witch or wizard is strong enough to connect to their magical core?" Hermione straight-away asked. Madame Pomfrey looked guarded.

"Why? Planning another way to kill yourself, Mr. Potter?"

"_Tell her it's for an essay. Quickly!"_ Harry signed feverishly. The last thing he wanted was a nosy medi-witch.

"It's for an essay," Hermione lied smoothly. Madame Pomfrey appeared suspicious, but bought their explanation.

"No, there isn't a test. There have been attempts at creating one, but none have been successful," she informed them. "Now, is that all?"

"Yes, thank you, Madame Pomfrey," Hermione said, and they hurriedly left the medi-witch's domain.

…

The next evening they sat in the Room of Requirement after a meeting of Dumbledore's Army. Harry had taken whatever spare time he had to read more on magical cores, and he now felt secure – or as secure as it was possible to feel – in attempting to connect with his own core.

Hermione and Ron sat opposite him, eyeing him anxiously.

"_I'll be fine, guys. Don't worry,"_ Harry assured. Hermione bit her lip. "_I'm going into the trance now," _he warned. They silently nodded, and Harry closed his eyes and evened his breathing, clearing his mind.

He felt as if he were floating in an empty space, but images, sounds, feelings, emotions all swirled around him; pushed aside, but ready to be summoned with a thought. Harry was in his own mind.

Harry relaxed farther and felt as if he were sinking. His mind faded – still there, but in the background. He felt as if he were floating in a black void – here there was nothing.

Harry allowed himself to sink further and further into the void. He wasn't scared of being disconnected with his mind; its contents swirled at the edge of his perceptions, growing fainter the farther he sunk. Yet he didn't think he would lose them, after all they were a part of him. How could it be possible to lose his mind?

Suddenly the void didn't feel so empty. A sensation, like that of a faint electric current, tingled through Harry. He shivered at the odd sensation, not frightened but startled.

Harry's eyes flew open as his trance broke, drawing in a startled breath. He felt as if he had surfaced from an underwater swim.

"Harry!" Ron and Hermione simultaneously shouted.

"What happened? Are you alright? Did you do it?" The questions poured out at him, overloading his startled brain. He held up a tired hand.

"_I'm fine. I haven't done it, but I think I was close__…there was this feeling…it startled me out of the trance,"_ Harry explained. "_I think it was my magic!"_

Hermione squealed in excitement.

"What did it feel like?" she questioned, leaning forward eagerly.

"_Like a mild electric current. It made me tingle," _Harry explained.

"That's brilliant!" Hermione exclaimed.

"You going to give it another go?" Ron asked.

"_I don't think so. That wore me out."_ Harry signed regretfully. "_I'll have another go tomorrow morning. It'll be the weekend then, and I'll have plenty of time. We can get Ginny in on it, too."_

_…_

"Why didn't you tell me about this _before_ you tried it?!" Ginny shouted. They had just told her of what Harry had attempted, and she wasn't taking it well. Thankfully they had had the foresight to put up privacy wards in their corner of the common room.

Harry winced.

"_I'm sorry, I should have told you__…"_

"That's right you should have told me! What if something had happened?"

"_I'm sorry, Ginny! We were all caught up in it, I wasn't thinking__…"_

"Obviously! It didn't even cross your mind that I might be concerned about you doing something _extremely_ dangerous?"

"_I'm sorry__…"_

"Sorry doesn't cut it! What if you _had_ died?" Ginny finally ran out of steam and grabbed Harry, hugging him tightly and crying. Harry silently stroked her hair, finally understanding her anger. It had been anger born of concern.

"If something had happened to you…" Ginny drew in a shaky breath. "…I couldn't bear it, Harry. So many dangerous things seem to go on around you. You've already been permanently _maimed_, and now you are voluntarily putting yourself in those situations. How can I protect you if I'm not there?"

Harry gently tipped her teary face up to his, and looking deeply into her eyes, planted a tender kiss on her forehead. She sighed.

"I'm scared for you, Harry," Ginny said quietly. Harry hugged her tighter, trying to give her comfort simply through his touch.

Eventually she drew away, wiping tears from her eyes.

"I'm assuming that you're going to try again?"

"_Tomorrow morning, in the Room of Requirement. I was hoping you'd come,"_ Harry signed, regretting having to release Ginny.

"Of course I'll come, even though I think this is a very bad idea," Ginny said, pursing her lips and reminding Harry of Mrs. Weasley. Harry just smiled.

…

Morning saw the group of four once more in the sitting area that the Room of Requirement had set up for them.

Closing his eyes against the once more concerned – and disapproving, in Ginny's case – looks he was subjected to from his friends, Harry evened his breathing and cleared his mind, allowing himself to sink quickly into the trance.

He once more felt the sensation of sinking through a void, with his mind's contents swirling at the edge of his consciousness. Recalling what he did last time, he sank further and further, preparing himself for the surprising feeling of electricity.

As he recalled he soon encountered the sensation, but this time he didn't allow its suddenness to startle him from the trance. Instead, he felt a tugging from the feeling, and allowed himself to be pulled. He could feel the intensity of the 'electricity' increasing steadily, building and building.

Harry felt consumed by it. It was everywhere, in every part of him, buzzing in his brain and making his heart pound. But he stuck with it, somehow _knowing_ that this current was his magic. It would pull him to his core, he was sure.

Harry wasn't sure how long he remained in the current, only being aware of the tingling increasing in intensity until it was nigh unbearable.

Suddenly, Harry felt as if he had been knocked back by a wave of pure energy, stopping his breath and stiffening his muscles. More energy was pulsing around him, sweeping him up in its power.

There was a magnificent sun in front of him, nearly white with power but with a bright green tint. Green wisps were floating around it, coming away from the sun and disappearing into the void and then returning. The waves of power – of _magic_ –– were coming from it, sweeping in all directions.

Though he felt paralyzed Harry somehow approached the magnificent sun, staring at its magnificence. Strange – he felt no heat and no cold – there was only a pleasant feeling in him now that he could only relate to one word: glow. He could still feel the magic surging around him like a great tidal sea, but it did not deter him from his course. In fact, it seemed to aid him, gently prodding him onward.

Suddenly Harry stopped. There was a milky wall in front of him, something he hadn't seen before. But it didn't seem to be fully solid. It was mostly translucent, and when Harry looked closely, there seemed to be the most infinitesimal cracks throughout its surface. Through these cracks leaked little wisps of green magic.

Foolishly, Harry reached out and touched it.

Memories swirled through his mind: A flash of green light and an agonized scream. A red cruciatus curse zooming straight for him as black-robed death eaters closed in. Wormtail cutting his own hand off to land in a simmering cauldron. Snape uttering "avada kedavra" and Dumbledore tumbling backward over the edge of the astronomy tower. A red spell coming from the tip of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand and coming straight for him. _Sectumsempra_ shooting from Harry's own wand, and then Malfoy lying in a growing puddle of blood.

_Magic is evil_, a voice whispered. _Nothing good can come from it. Voldemort is powerful, and he is evil. Power is evil. Magic is power. Magic is evil. Magic is evil._

Harry began to panic. What was happening?

A new memory came to the surface of his mind:

Sirius leaned in to Harry, earnestness showing in his sad eyes. "We all have both light and dark in us, Harry. What matters it what side you choose to listen to."

Madame Pomfrey used a healing spell to mend a broken leg. Harry's Patronus drove away the swarm of dementors trying to consume his own and Sirius's souls. Dumbledore transfigured a storm of glass shards into harmless dust. Hermione showed Ron how to properly levitate a feather. The Order of the Phoenix Apparated into the Department of Mysteries to save Harry and his friends. Harry sent red sparks from his wand to save Fleur Delacour.

_No. Magic _can _be used for good,_ Harry argued. And in that moment, he actually believed the words like he never had before.

The milky barrier disappeared in a flash of white light, and Harry felt as if a previously unnoticed weight had lifted from his shoulders.

The power battered at him with renewed vigor. The milky barrier had been holding some of it back, Harry realized.

But Harry let the power sweep him up and carry him onward towards the sun, feeling the power increase, the pulses become more frequent. He was carried in a tide of magic. It was both terrifying and exciting at the same time.

Harry was directly in front of the sun now. It towered above him, basking him in its greenish light. Harry felt the pure undiluted power centered in this sun, causing a feeling of exhilaration. This was his power.

Harry didn't hesitate. He reached out and touched the light.

This was like nothing he had ever felt before. Joy, pride, triumph, wonder, and thrill engulfed every part of him, accompanied by pain. The magic surged around him, agitated, angry, and violent. Green ribbons of power lashed out like whips, and the surface of the sun pulsed and roiled. He felt as if he were on fire with power. It was too much. It would consume him and burn him up until there was nothing left of him but an empty husk.

_No_, Harry thought. _That is _not _what will happen. This is mine. I control it. It is a part of me. THIS IS MINE!_

The burning quelled and the emotions changed to simple peace. The magic settled, and the green ribbons caressed him, sending pleasant shivers up his spine. The magic had accepted him.

It began fading away, growing dimmer. Harry felt as if he had been hurled backward, away from his magic, catapulting back to the real world.

…

Ginny watched as her boyfriend closed his eyes and settled into his trance. She felt terrified. Why on earth would he do something like this? It was unnecessarily dangerous, stupid, and rash. She understood that he was doing this in the hopes that it would even the playing field between himself and Voldemort, but weren't there other things he could do?

The minutes went by, without even a twitch from Harry. Ginny realized she was holding her breath, and forced herself to breathe.

Harry shivered lightly, but otherwise remained unmoving.

What was he experiencing? What could he see? Had he found his core yet?

Harry winced, was still for a moment, and then sighed ever so quietly. More minutes ticked by.

Harry's eyes suddenly flew open, and Ginny gasped, hearing Hermione and Ron do the same beside her. Harry's eyes were filled with a pulsing light, glowing an unnaturally bright green. His breathing froze in his chest.

Harry suddenly lurched back and started gasping. He stilled…and then _glowed_.

And aura of bright green surrounded him, coming from him, pulsing around him in eddies of obvious magical power.

"He's entered his magical core," Hermione realized quietly, in wonder.

Harry's expression settled into a content smile. Awareness seemed to seep back into his him as the aura and glow in his eyes faded.

Harry shook his head, stared around at them, and then suddenly collapsed sideways.

"Harry!" Ginny screamed, jumping from her seat just in time to catch him before he hit the floor. To her relief he wasn't dead – he was still breathing. His eyes were partially open, staring up at her.

He grinned wearily, and by the joyous glint in his eyes, Ginny knew he had done it. He had successfully connected to his magical core.

"Is he alright?" Hermione questioned anxiously, coming up behind Ginny.

"Yes, he's alright I think," Ginny replied, her voice choking. She hugged Harry tightly to her chest, holding him close and crying from stress. She felt his feeble arms wrap around her in return.

"I'm sorry Ginny, but we should get him up on the couch. He looks exhausted," Hermione eventually suggested. Ginny nodded, reluctant to let go of him. But she did, and Hermione levitated Harry up onto the couch. Ginny lifted his head and positioned a pillow under it so he would be comfortable, then pulled an armchair up beside him.

He grinned lopsidedly at her.

"You sure you've not gone loopy, mate?" Ron asked doubtfully. Harry snorted softly. He made the simple sign for "yes", not lifting his hand away from the couch.

"Harry, you should sleep," Hermione said, biting her lip.

"_I want tell you__…" _Harry began weakly, his movements sloppy. Hermione snorted.

"Harry, I barely understood that. Rest. You can tell us about it in a few hours," Hermione admonished.

"Listen to her, Harry. We can wait," Ginny agreed. Harry reluctantly nodded and let his eyes slip closed, nodding off to sleep within a few seconds. Ginny stroked his hair affectionately.

"What do you think happened?" Ron wondered.

"That green light must have been his magic. I'd say that when he touched his core the magic was able to fill him up," Hermione guessed.

"What would that have felt like?" Ron asked.

"I don't know! I've never touched my core!" Hermione replied, seeming to be annoyed that for once she didn't have an answer.

They chatted awhile longer, while Harry slept peacefully.

After two hours Hermione checked her watch.

"Ron, why don't you get us some lunch from the kitchen?" Hermione suggested.

"Sure," Ron agreed readily, having no problem with getting food. He left the room with a promise that he'd be back soon.

"We'll wake Harry up soon so that he can eat," Hermione said. "It will help give him some energy."

Ginny nodded agreement.

"Do you think he really is okay?" Ginny asked worriedly. Hermione bit her lip.

"He looked fine. There was no violent outburst of magic, which is what precedes a wizard becoming a squib, so I'd guess he still had magic. He's certainly not dead…and he didn't look insane. He also seemed to be fully aware – he didn't try to talk, which he's done before when he's exhausted."

"What if it's a gradual process? Becoming insane. What if Harry slowly goes mad?" Ginny whimpered. Hermione gave her a comforting hug.

"I'm sure that Harry's fine. His magic seemed to accept him."

"I don't know. I'm still worried." Ginny admitted.

Both of their heads swiveled to look when they heard a thumping sound. Then they saw Harry, knocking his fist against the side of the couch to let them know he'd woken up. Ginny was instantly on her feet and helped Harry sit up.

"Are you alright?" she asked. Harry grinned.

"_Of course I am!"_ Harry signed back. His movements were a little sluggish, but they were understandable, and it wasn't out of the ordinary for Ron to complain that he could barely understand Harry in the morning after the boy had just woken up.

"Ron's gone to get us some food for lunch. Are you hungry?" Hermione asked. Harry thought about it, and then nodded vigorously.

"_What's all this talk of me going mad?"_ Harry signed, the smile still in place. Ginny and Hermione exchanged guilty looks.

"You heard that?" Hermione asked. Harry rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Well we're worried about you! You collapsed just as you stopped _glowing_!" Ginny cried. Harry appeared confused.

"_Wait__…I was glowing?"_


	32. Gaining Confidence

I don't own Harry Potter.

…

At that moment Ron returned, levitating trays of food. They all agreed to hold off explanations of what had happened until after they'd eaten.

But after their stomachs had been filled and Harry was feeling much more energetic, they sat down to do some serious talking.

Harry started. He told them about what he had experienced: first the tingling, then the pulsing magic, the milky wall. He described his wonder, his exhilaration at seeing his magic, at feeling himself get swept up in it as it carried him to his core. Finally he reached the point where he touched his magic and tried to summarize the multitude of emotions he had felt – and the pain.

When he had finished, his friends' eyes were slightly glazed as if their minds were a million miles away, trying to imagine such and experience happening to them.

"_But now I want an explanation. You can't say I was glowing and then not tell me about it!"_ Harry signed animatedly.

"It was the weirdest thing, mate," Ron said, snapping out of his pensive mood first. "First you were shivering, and then you lurched back and gasped. After a while your eyes snapped open…"

"And they were glowing!" Ginny finished.

"_What do you mean?"_ Harry asked confusedly. How was it even possible?

"It was like your eyes were projecting bright green light, Harry. They were filled with it," Hermione explained.

"And then the rest of your body started it!" Ron added.

"_So__…my skin was glowing green," _Harry summarized.

"Not exactly. It was more like you had this green mist around you," Ginny admitted.

"I think that when you touched your core, Harry, that was when your eyes started glowing. Then when your magic actually settled, and accepted the link, I think that was when the aura appeared," Hermione said.

"_But why?"_ Harry asked.

"Well, all the books say that when you connect directly with your magical core, your magical power increases. Maybe, some of that power sort of leaked out, causing the aura," Hermione guessed. Her expression was one of deep concentration.

"_What about that barrier? What was it? None of the books said anything about it,"_ Harry asked, remembering the barrier that had prompted such painful memories to surface.

"I honestly have no idea. But…"

"_You'll find it in the library?" _Harry asked hopefully. Hermione smirked.

"_You _will find it in the library," Hermione corrected. "With all your new power you can certainly read a few books."

If Harry could have groaned, he would have. How would he identify a nameless filmy wall around his magical core? And amongst all the books in the library!

He let out a loud blast of air and threw himself in mock despair against the back of the couch, adopting a sulky expression. His friends chuckled at his antics.

"Don't look so sullen. We'll help you," Hermione laughed.

"Who said anything about '_we?'_" Ron protested. Hermione ignored him.

"We'll start by looking at books on the magic of a wizard. How it acts, how it can be altered," Hermione began. Ron was already looking overwhelmed.

"If that doesn't work then we'll look at what makes a witch or wizard powerful or weak. You said that when the barrier broke you felt as if the magic coming from you core increased," Hermione rambled.

"_And I even feel more powerful now, as if there is more magic for me to call on. Is that normal?" _Harry inquired.

"I don't think so; there have been no other accounts of an actual feeling of more power," Hermione mused.

"_What would cause that, then?" _Harry suddenly remembered the day in the summer, when he had been practicing silent magic. That _petrificus totatus_…it had been accompanied by the feeling that something had given way, hadn't it? Maybe it was related?

"_Remember that petrifying spell that was so powerful over the summer? Remember I told you I thought I felt something give way? Maybe it's related to this wall?_" Harry suggested.

"Brilliant, Harry! I'll bet it is!" Hermione exclaimed, bouncing in excitement.

"I don't get it," Ron said blankly.

"The only thing that I can think of that holds back magic is a magical block. You must have somehow had one!" Hermione guessed.

"Aren't those usually induced by a powerful spell, or by some sort of mental condition?" Ginny asked.

"Not you too!" Ron exclaimed, looking at his sister in horror.

"Yes, they are. Harry, do you remember anyone ever casting a complex spell on you?" Hermione asked, completely serious.

"_No, but I've been unconscious enough times for someone to do it. Or it could have been done when I was too young to remember it."_

"Couldn't you use your Occlumency to find if there is any memory like that?" Ginny asked. Harry nodded.

Quickly he skimmed through his memories, looking for anyone casting some sort of spell on him.

"_Nothing. But again, I wouldn't remember it if I was unconscious." _Harry signed.

"Or you had some sort of mental problem," Hermione pointed out.

"_I'm not crazy!"_ Harry protested.

"I'm not saying you are. When I said 'mental problem' I meant that something in the way you were thinking was preventing all of your magic from coming through," Hermione explained.

"_Like what?"_ asked Harry curiously.

"I don't know, that's what we'll have to find out."

"So are you going to try some wandless magic or not?" Ron butted in, tired of the academic conversation.

"_I'll try, but don't expect anything._" Harry signed. He took a deep breath before pulling a feather from his book bag and resting it on the table in front of him.

He concentrated. He focused all his will on lifting the feather, even if it was just an inch, from the table. But no success.

Harry slumped back on the couch and scowled darkly at the feather.

"It will take some more practice, Harry." Ginny soothed.

"_How much more?"_ Harry asked dejectedly. Ginny took on an encouraging tone.

"You'll do it eventually. No one has ever mastered wandless magic overnight. Few even master silent magic, which you've already done. You'll do it. It will just take some time."

…

A week later Harry still hadn't made progress, and they hadn't discovered what had been causing the milky barrier. He was thoroughly frustrated.

He could feel his magic, wasn't that supposed to help him use it? Connecting with his magical core should have unlocked power. But, even though he could feel his magical core pulsing through him with barely contained power, nothing had changed.

"_I must be doing something wrong,_" Harry signed, frustrated, to Ron. They were up in the dorm, and Harry was waiting for Ron to be ready to head down to breakfast.

"Well I don't know anything about it, mate."

Harry let out a huff of air and fell back onto his mattress.

"But…since you've got this connection, don't you think you should be using it somehow?" Ron asked. Harry bolted upright.

**"Genius!"** He exclaimed in Parseltongue.

"What?" Ron asked.

"_That's brilliant, Ron!" _Harry signed wildly, the equivalent of a shout.

"Why?"

"_Of course. It doesn't matter if I can feel my magic; I have to take advantage of it! Otherwise, I'm not doing anything different from before I connected!"_ Harry signed, jumping up and aiming a hand, palm out, at the blasted feather.

"Oh…yeah, that makes sense," Ron agreed.

Harry tried to push away his excitement and focus. He felt his magic coursing through him, ready to be molded to the purpose set by Harry's mind. Harry tried to harness his magic, grab onto a bit of it, and push it down his extended arm and out through his hand with the single purpose of lifting the feather. He felt it surging, moving…yes, a wave of it was rolling through his arm. He could feel the tingling.

The magic reached his hand and burst from the center of his palm, streaking towards the feather in a bolt of bright green light.

The feather shot into the air, hit the ceiling, and drifted back down again as the burst of magic wore off.

Harry silently whooped and ran around the dorm in triumph, pumping his fists and jumping over the various detritus on the floor.

Harry grabbed Ron's shoulders and shook his best friend excitedly.

**"I did it, Ron! I did it!"** Harry hissed in his excitement, not realizing that he had spoken Parseltongue.

"Um, mate…I don't speak Parseltongue." Ron said, looking slightly shocked. Harry shook his head, trying reign in his emotions, and released his friend so that he was free to sign.

"_Sorry. I'm so excited, I did it!" _Harry signed. He laughed silently in jubilance. _"I levitated the blasted feather!"_

Ron grinned and picked up the feather.

"Do you want to make it explode? You keep calling it the 'blasted feather,"' Ron said, handing it back to Harry. Harry grinned maliciously and laid the feather carefully on the stone floor. He aimed a hand at it, and thought of the feather exploding in a miniature ball of fire. Then he pushed his magic down through his arm and forced it though his hand.

As before, the magic shot out in a blast of bright green light and managed to strike the feather. At once, the feather exploded in a violent burst of green fire.

Harry grinned at Ron, and the two jumped around the room together, yelling and shouting – or pretending to, in Harry's case. It didn't matter to him, though – he was still expressing his joy and triumph.

"What _are _you two doing?" Hermione asked, peeking her head in the dorm. "Everyone down in the common room can hear you!"

"_You can't hear me,"_ Harry said, grinning.

"Your mouth might not make noise, Harry, but your feet do," Hermione replied dryly. "And…is that a scorch mark on the floor?"

"_Yes, it is,_" Harry signed with a satisfied smirk.

"He did it, Hermione!" Ron said, still grinning.

"Did what?"

"_I made the feather shoot up in the air and hit the ceiling. Then I made it explode!"_ Harry signed, grinning from ear to ear.

"That's brilliant, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, now understanding their excitement. Harry once more started jumping around the room, and Ron joined in again. Hermione shook her head at their antics, though she was smiling widely.

…

Harry strode into Defense Against the Dark Arts confidently, feeling invincible because of his success in wandless magic that morning. He couldn't wait to show up the Slytherins in class. No other student, not even the most dedicated Ravenclaws, had managed a single spell wandlessly and on purpose.

Smugly, he noted that that day would be a practical lesson from the absence of desks. Good. He would have his chance, then.

Professor Charlie, as Harry had come to think of him, entered the room just as the last student closed the classroom door, right on time, as per usual.

"You lot are in for a challenge. Today you'll have a bit of a break from all of the theories we've been discussing. Line up on either side of the room, please!" the professor said, smirking. The students hastened to comply, the Gryffindors taking one side of the room with the Slytherins opposite, and the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws not caring.

"Now, although this is a NEWT level class, I don't expect many, if any of you, to be able to cast this charm. However, it is extremely useful. If you are able to master it, you will be able to defend yourself against dementors."

Charlie's last words started the classroom muttering in interest. All had experienced the dementors' invasion of the Hogwarts Express in third year, and no one wanted to be defenseless against such creatures again.

Harry raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"_Will we be learning the Patronus charm, Professor?" _Harry signed, and Ron translated.

"Yes. Honestly, I'm surprised you've even heard of it. Nevertheless, I cannot stress enough the difficulty of this defensive charm; many Auror trainees drop out of training because of not being able to cast it…" Harry tuned the professor's next words out. He knew this charm inside and out – this was a perfect opportunity to display his power.

"If you will all concentrate on your memories, and cast the charm when you feel ready." Charlie instructed. He retreated to his desk, and sat back to watch their attempts.

Harry watched the other students, seeing that, with the exception of the DA students, none succeeded in the slightest. The students who had learned the Patronus charm in Dumbledore's Army were having varying degrees of success. Harry smiled in pride and then smirked. The Slytherins were the only house in the class who hadn't had any success yet, as no Slytherins had been in the DA. They were already embarrassed that none of their members were having success – now Harry was going to increase that embarrassment tenfold.

In a few more seconds Neville had managed a corporeal Patronus – many students gasped as they saw the mongoose bounding through the air.

"Brilliant, Mr. Longbottom!" Charlie praised, on his feet and staring open-mouthed at the Patronus. It was astounding to see a student, even though a seventh year, manage a Patronus even in its shield form. Neville was known for his general slowness in learning magic – that he had been one of the students to manage the most advanced form of a patronus was shocking.

Therefore, when other corporeal Patronuses mixed with a few shield forms appeared, Professor Weasley had to steady himself on his desk. This was simply unbelievable – McGonagall wouldn't believe him until he showed her the memory!

Harry's smirk deepened at the sight of a weak-kneed Professor Charlie Weasley. _Maybe I can actually manage to make him faint, _he thought.

Harry brought his hand up, leaving his wand in his pocket, and reached into himself for his magic. It was definitely there – swirling and leaping inside him, ready to be directed and used. He grasped part of his magic and drew it up through himself, picturing his Patronus alongside a memory of his mother whispering to him in his mind. First he let the joy he felt from the memory fill him up, and then pushed the magic he had grasped down his arm to his hand.

A stream of green-tinted silvery magic burst from his palm. Harry nearly grinned, but then realized that the magic was still running down his arm. Apparently, the magic required to summon a Patronus wasn't enough to keep it up.

Harry frowned. He hadn't conjured a corporeal Patronus, just a shield form. Sure, it was impressive, he thought, but it wasn't what he had been aiming for.

Face set with determination, Harry increased the flow of his magic. The shield brightened and began morphing, while Harry pumped more and more magic into it. Finally, his familiar stag was there, and it began to leap around the room as Harry's face lit in a triumphant grin.

"Harry! You're not using a wand!" Hermione shouted, shocked. Her otter Patronus evaporated as she lost concentration, and the other Patronuses fizzled out as the other students saw the truth of Hermione's shocked declaration.

A loud thump echoed through the room as Defense Professor Charlie Weasley, toughened from working with dragons, hit the ground in a dead faint.


	33. The Trouble With Snakes

**AN: My beta told me I posted chapter 32 twice - sorry about that! I never would have noticed! This is the real chapter 33**.

I don't own Harry Potter.

...

After a brief check to make sure that Professor Weasley was alright, the class emptied out in to the corridor for an impromptu free period. The Gryffindors as well as the DA members crowded around Harry immediately, throwing so many questions at him that he couldn't hope to answer all of them. The green-clad students departed after throwing sneers at Harry, heads held high to cover up wounded pride.

They didn't like to be bested.

"Oh, my gosh, Harry, that was amazing!" Lavender squealed.

"If you are taking some sort of secret lessons, I want in," Michael Corner said. He crossed his arms over his chest, daring Harry to refuse him. _Ravenclaw, right_, Harry thought.

"Can you do more stuff like that?" Parvati asked, batting her eyelashes in what she must have thought was a flirtatious manner. Her Ravenclaw twin, Padma, jabbed her elbow into Parvati's side, opening a spot for a Hufflepuff girl to take a picture of Harry. Harry winced at the flash. Yes, he'd wanted to show the Slytherins up, but that didn't mean he wanted to be mobbed!

The girls were getting closer, and the boys were slowly being pushed to the edges of the crowd. Harry spotted Hermione and Ron both trying to get to him through the press, but it was proving impossible.

"Could you teach me? Privately?" a female Ravenclaw asked, getting a little closer to him than was necessary.

The girls were getting more audacious. Harry couldn't have responded to their questions and advances even if he could speak. There were simply too many. He began to panic.

Neville and Ron had teamed up to try to bulldoze their way through the girls, but they still weren't having much success, despite their heights. Harry met their eyes desperately, and mouthed, "Help me!"

"Hey!" Hermione shouted, followed by a bang issued from her wand. Harry's new fan girl club all started, and turned.

"He already has a girlfriend! Back off!" Hermione said firmly. The pressing girls pouted, and with a few glances back at Harry –ranging from doe-eyed to downright calculating – they dissipated.

Harry let out a sigh of relief.

"Girls…scary," Neville said, staring after where most of them had disappeared. Harry nodded vigorously in agreement.

Hermione snorted, glaring down the corridor where the girls had gone.

"I wouldn't have minded swapping with you," Ron said, a little wistfully. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"How did you do that, Harry? I thought you'd only started successful wandless magic this morning!" Hermione asked.

"_My magic is so much easier to control now. I feel like I can do anything!" _Harry replied.

"Harry, I bet even Dumbledore would've been impressed to see that. Blimey, Harry! If you can do spells as powerful as the Patronus without a wand…" Neville trailed off, shaking his head in awe.

Harry grinned. He was pretty powerful, wasn't he? No other student had even mastered the simplest charm wandlessly, and here he was creating corporeal Patronuses with just his hand!

Hermione whacked him in the back of the head with her DADA textbook.

"I know what you're thinking. Stop it. You're not all-powerful, there's a lot more you can learn…"

"Don't spoil it for him, Hermione!" Ron said. "He's just shown that he's the most powerful person in the school!"

Harry, rubbing his head, grinned again. Maybe having all this power wouldn't be too bad…

...

By lunchtime the story had already spread through the whole school. Harry wouldn't have thought that something as amazing as creating a corporeal Patronus silently and wandlessly could be exaggerated, but he underestimated the ingenuity of gossip. He was certain that he heard Lavender Brown telling a sixth year how he had created a Patronus as big as Professor Weasley during the first ten minutes of lunch. Ten minutes later, Lavender was telling the same story to a fifth year, but this time Harry had created a _herd _of stags.

"Honestly. Can't she find something else to talk about?" Ginny asked in disgust, watching the seventh year gossip.

"Telling stories in such exaggeration proves that she doesn't have the mental capacity to speak of anything more intelligent," Hermione said snootily. Harry pretended to wince.

"_Ouch, Hermione. You'll kill someone with comments like that." _

"Yeah. I never knew you could be so insulting. Glad you're on my side," Ginny agreed. Hermione lifted her nose in the air.

"If she's going to act like an idiot she should expect comments on her intelligence…or lack thereof. Besides, she shouldn't tell such obviously preposterous stories."

"There's no harm in them. I mean, Harry did do something unheard of," Ron said, surfacing from his plate of food.

"It degrades his accomplishment," Hermione huffed.

"You're not part of the new Harry fan club, are you? Because if you are, I think I'll just run now." Ron joked.

"Of course not!" Hermione protested. People's heads turned, and Hermione quieted her voice. "What I said is true! Exaggeration makes the real thing cheap!" Ron shrugged, and Harry chuckled at their antics.

"_Glad you're sticking up for me, Hermione! After all, what I did was pretty cool__…" _His friend whacked him, for the second time that day, on the back of the head with a textbook. Herbology this time, Harry noticed. He winced, and rubbed the lump that was growing on his skull.

"Just because I said what I did doesn't mean you can get a big ego! Come on, let's get to Herbology." With that, Hermione stood and began to stride for the doors to the Great Hall, not waiting to see if they followed.

"What got into her?" Ron asked, confused at Hermione's odd behavior.

Harry shrugged, and Ginny narrowed her eyes in thought.

...

By the end of the day, Harry had grown very accustomed to fending off girls…especially Ravenclaws. His knowledge and power evidenced by his wandless Patronus had apparently impressed the house of bookworms, and suddenly girls were acting as if he were up for grabs. Hadn't they noticed that he already had a girlfriend? Maybe they'd been so immersed in their books the last few years that they hadn't kept up with the latest conversation topics in Hogwarts, and now that they'd actually noticed him, they found him…interesting.

"Wish I were you, Harry," Seamus said that night in the dorm. Harry raised an eyebrow.

He had to resort to body language and writing when trying communicate with Seamus as Dean, as neither had learned sign language. Usually, Ron or Neville was around to translate, but tonight Neville was in the common room working on an extensive Herbology essay, and Ron was in the shower.

"Don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about," Seamus said incredulously. Harry shrugged, and turned away, hiding his grin. Of course he knew what Seamus was referring to, but that didn't mean he couldn't have some fun.

"The girls!" Dean interrupted. "They're throwing themselves at you!" Harry turned back around and stared levelly at Dean, asking him to explain further.

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed. Every time I've seen you today some girl is trying to get you to take her on a date while a pack of others are staring at you," Dean said.

"You've ruined the chances for the rest of us." Seamus said gloomily. Harry shrugged again, digging through his school bag to find his notebook and pen.

"Yeah. No girl is interested in anyone else but you, all of a sudden." Dean said.

"_I already have a girlfriend, one I quite like. Eventually, the others will get that, and everything will be back to normal," _Harry scribbled. He tossed the message onto Seamus's bed and reclined on his own, letting his muscles relax after his girl-filled day.

There was silence while Seamus and Dean read his note.

"So you mean you're not going to take advantage of this? You could have nearly any girl in the school!" Seamus said. Harry raised his eyebrow and gestured to the note.

"Ok, yeah, you have a girlfriend. But come on! You could have anyone!" Seamus was gesturing wildly, trying to emphasize the magnitude of Harry's opportunity. Harry narrowed his eyes, and grabbed his notebook once more.

"_Why would I want to date a girl that can't understand me?" _He tossed the notebook to Seamus, lay back on his bed, and pulled his curtains shut, ending the conversation.

He'd find his notebook in the morning.

...

Potions was on the agenda the next day.

Slughorn had heard of Harry's accomplishment in Defense Against the Dark Arts and lavished so much praise – most of it undeserved - upon Harry that it was beginning to get very embarrassing, no matter how well known Slughorn's favoritism was.

Slughorn was so busy praising Harry that he didn't notice what Harry noticed– the faint sizzle as a new ingredient was introduced to his potion.

Harry looked down from Professor Slughorn to see a tentacula leaf disappear into his nigh-perfect potion.

The potion fumes suddenly became thicker and more noxious.

"Oh my, what's happened?" Slughorn asked, just noticing the change. The potion began sizzling.

Harry began coughing and shoved Ron, standing next to him, away from the table. Then he himself turned to escape from the spreading fumes.

The rest of the class had now noticed the problem, and Hermione was standing up with her wand out, trying to remember some sort of spell to stop the fumes' spread.

"Everyone get out of the classroom, quickly!" Slughorn said, waving his hand to enforce his order.

Harry stumbled after Ron, his coughs getting worse. The other students were coughing now, too, as the fumes had nearly filled the classroom.

They made it out into the corridor, Slughorn coming last. The professor shut the door behind them, and the students leaned against the walls, catching their breaths as the coughs subsided.

Hermione patted Harry's back as he tried to force himself to stop coughing, but his throat felt like it was on fire, and much too dry for his liking. He couldn't stop.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Slughorn asked, noticing that his favorite student didn't seem to be recovering. Harry shook his head in between coughs, and then noticed flecks of red on his hand. Blood.

"He's coughing up blood, Professor!" Hermione said. "Is it from your throat, Harry?" Harry nodded.

"Take him to the hospital wing quickly, Ms. Granger, Weatherby. The rest of you, class is dismissed. I've got to clean up the classroom before the third years arrive." Slughorn ordered. The students began the trek out of the dungeon, while Hermione guided Harry in the same direction with an arm around him. Ron trotted beside them, watching Harry with concern.

Harry still hadn't managed to cease coughing by the time they had made it to the hospital wing, and his throat was burning viciously. Hermione still had her arm around him, acting as if he would tip over if she let go.

He might have.

Madame Pomfrey immediately pointed Harry over to a cot and pulled out her wand, quickly casting diagnostic spells.

"He was coughing up blood, Madame Pomfrey. It was from a potions accident. The fumes were spreading through the whole classroom, and Harry got the most of it, I think. Everyone else was coughing too, but we all stopped after we left the classroom," Hermione explained.

"From what I can see the fumes initially had the same effect on him as everyone else, but the heavy coughing irritated his throat enough to make his old wounds bleed. That is why he was coughing up blood," Madame Pomfrey said, summoning a potion to her hand. "Drink this, dear."

Harry waited for a small break in his coughs and then downed the potion as quickly as possible. He felt it coat his throat, and in a few seconds, he managed to get his cough under control. He sucked in several wheezy breaths, his chest aching from the strain.

"Is your throat in pain, Mr. Potter?" Madame Pomfrey asked, nodding to herself at Harry's recovery.

Harry nodded, gently rubbing the front of his neck.

Madame Pomfrey handed him another potion.

"This will work to close up those wounds you've opened up. Just like last time, be careful. Your throat will be sore for a few days."

Harry nodded and quaffed the draught, shuddering at its intensely bitter taste. He licked his lips, trying to get rid of the taste.

"Just take this last potion, Mr. Potter. It will give you a bit of energy." Again, Madame Pomfrey handed Harry a potion. This time, it didn't taste quite as bad, and it made the ache in Harry's chest diminish. He sighed in relief.

"Is there anything else, Mr. Potter?" Madame Pomfrey asked, and Harry shook his head.

"Thank you, Madame Pomfrey," Hermione said, and Harry nodded agreement.

"You can thank me by not coming back for at least another two months, Mr. Potter!" the medi-witch scolded. Harry slid off the cot and nodded, before following his friends from the infirmary.

"We were getting worried there," Ron said. "I've never seen anyone cough so much."

"_It's not my fault! Someone levitated a tentacula leaf into my potion!"_

"So that's where the fumes came from?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded, scowling.

"_I heard something sizzle and I looked down just in time to see the leaf going beneath the surface of my potion. Slughorn didn't notice until the fumes changed."_

"We're lucky those fumes weren't poisonous," Hermione said. "The whole class would have been affected."

"Who do you think did it?" Ron asked.

"_A Slytherin, obviously._" Harry replied.

"I doubt they realized exactly what kind of effect the leaf would have on your potion. They probably didn't anticipate everyone ending up coughing," Hermione reasoned.

"_I guess not._"

They walked in silence for the next minute or so.

"Harry…I don't know if you've thought about it recently, but now that you are doing well in magic again, we should start thinking of where the Horcruxes could be," Hermione said hesitantly. Harry nodded. "We should make a list of possible items that Voldemort used as well as where they could be hidden. Then when we have a chance we have some sort of idea of what we have to do." Hermione continued.

"_Yes, I know. Dumbledore thought that Riddle was trying to make a Horcrux out of one of each of the founder's items. We know that he made a Horcrux out of Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup."_

"We'll have to talk more about it later. I've got Ancient Runes now, and you two have to head for…what _do _you two have now?" Hermione asked.

"Double free period." Ron grinned, anticipating the time spent doing anything except for schoolwork.

"Brilliant! You can go research other artifacts that we have from the founders!" With that statement of doom, Hermione bounced away to her Ancient Runes classroom, leaving Harry and Ron to stare helplessly at each other.

**A.N.**

The next chapter shouldn't take so long – I've already finished it and it just needs betaing. It will probably be up within the next week or so.

The poll on my profile is finished. For those of you who don't know, the results are in favor of Harmony. Although I will travel in that direction with this story, be warned – it won't happen immediately. That's just not realistic.


	34. Weighty Discussions

Thanks to my beta, DaniPotterLovesGod.

I don't own Harry Potter.

…

For some reason, the two boys never considered not doing as Hermione had suggested. Maybe it was because she hadn't given them time to argue against it, or maybe because they realized that no matter how much they detested paging through endless dusty tomes, searching for obscure pieces of information, the research needed to be done, or Voldemort would remain immortal, and end up victorious.

Because no matter how insignificant something like reading could seem, this particular research was vital to the war's outcome.

Harry and Ron spent an hour reading in the library, researching the founders and ancient magical artifacts. Harry and Ron each made a list of objects still in existence that had belonged to the founders as they worked, as well as the object's last known whereabouts and the owner.

Hermione found them in a secluded corner of the library, took in the stacks of books they had gathered and their surprisingly organized lists, and sat down with a grin. She was finally imparting some of her research habits onto them.

"Any luck?" She asked as she surveyed the titles of the books that were scattered around.

Harry set his pen down so that he could give her a summary.

"_We've only come across a few objects. There's Godric Gryffindor's sword; last known location: Headmaster's office in Hogwarts. Hufflepuff's cup disappeared after the death of its last owner,_ _Hepzibah Smith. We know Riddle made that one a horcrux. Ravenclaw left behind several books which are owned by the ministry as well as a diadem, which was actually stolen by Helena Ravenclaw. Helena apparently hid it after she fled Hogwarts and it hasn't been seen since. Slytherin left behind a dagger, which was claimed by the goblins after no descendant of slytherin claimed it and is supposedly somewhere in Gringotts. And there is the locket too, of course, which we know Voldemort had at some point but was obviously replaced with a fake by R.A.B. Other than that, we haven't found anything."_

"Here's another book Ravenclaw wrote. It's preserved in the ministry, just like the last ones." Ron said, pausing in his reading to scribble a line of notes about the book on his list.

"I don't think that it is likely that Gryffindor's sword is a horcrux." Hermione said, looking over the list Harry had handed her. "Dumbledore had it in his office for years. And Harry didn't feel anything from it when he used it in the Chamber of Secrets." Harry nodded, took the list back, and put a slash next to the lines detailing Gryffindor's sword.

"_What about those books, Ron?"_ Harry asked after tapping his friend on the shoulder to get his attention.

"Most of them became the possession of the ministry more than a century ago. I don't think Voldemort would have had the chance to make them horcruxes." Ron said, closing the book he had been going through.

"Voldemort didn't manage to beat the ministry in the first war, so he wouldn't have had access to those books. You're probably right, Ron." Hermione said.

"_So the diadem might be a possibility, provided Voldemort managed to find it."_

"Did the book say anything about where Helena Ravenclaw fled to?" Hermione asked. Harry flipped through one of the books that he had placed to the side, and then stopped on a page with a sketch of a tiara-like object on it.

"_Here. It says that Helena Ravenclaw ran away from Hogwarts after stealing the diadem out of jealousy, and hid in a forest in Albania. When a "baron" sent by Rowena Ravenclaw found Helena in the forest, she hid the diadem before refusing to return to Hogwarts with the baron. The baron ended up killing her and then himself, after he realized what he had done. The book says that it is rumored the baron loved her."_

"Forest in Albania…wasn't Voldemort hiding in an Albanian forest?" Ron asked.

"But he couldn't have turned the diadem into a horcrux without a body." Hermione said, already far ahead of the red-head.

"_No, but he could have gone back for it if he had found it._" Harry pointed out.

"Good point. That makes the diadem the best candidate for a Ravenclaw-related horcrux." Hermione said.

Harry flipped to another sheet of paper in his notebook and began scribbling down words.

_Diary – Riddle_

_Ring – Gaunt_

_Locket –Slytherin_

_Cup – Hufflepuff_

_Diadem - Ravenclaw_

"If Riddle was trying to make seven, then we only have five." Ron said, skimming over Harry's list.

"Each horcrux required a ritualistic murder to create. He needed time to kill in order to set up the ritual for directing the pieces of his soul into the objects." Hermione murmured after a moment. "It's horrible."

Harry closed his eyes, suddenly having a terrible suspicion.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

He held his hand, telling her to wait a moment, and the pulled the memory of his mother's murder from his mind. He had avoided this memory, stashing it as far back into his mind as he could. He had relived it enough in nightmares, he had felt, but now he thought he needed to view the memory again, this time taking notice of details.

_The flash of poisonous green light streaked for his mum, and she fell to the floor with a scream. Harry nearly pulled out of the memory, but he forced himself to stay. _

_Voldemort turned towards Harry's baby self, and slowly a cruel grin slid onto the man's face, making Harry feel sick._

"_Don't worry, you'll soon be with your mudblood mother, little Harry." Voldemort said, making Harry's name sound mocking. Baby Harry simply stared, wondering why this scary man was in his nursery and why his mummy wasn't getting up from the floor._

_Voldemort turned away and began to carve runes into the floor with a spell from his wand. Harry couldn't read them, but he could sense the dark energy coming from them._

_Voldemort finished the last rune, completing a figure-eight shape – the shape representing infinity. _

_The Dark Lord then drew a large leather-bound book from his robes and placed it in one loop of the figure-eight, the loop nearest Harry's crib. Then Voldemort positioned himself in the center of the other loop, and turned to face Harry with another sickening grin._

"_Now, my baby Potter, you shall help me on my quest for immortality." Voldemort turned his wand onto himself and murmured an incantation that sent vibrations through the room, and made Voldemort's face contort in some sort of inside pain. He finished the incantation, shuddered, and then took a deep breath._

"_Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort fired the unforgivable at baby Harry. Harry felt like he was watching in slow motion – the curse was about to hit him, it had to turn back soon…_

_And then a glowing white light burst from baby Harry, colliding with the noxious green spell and sending it back to its caster. Voldemort only had time to widen his eyes in surprise before the spell struck him and his body disintegrated, and his spirit left the house, screaming._

_Magic rippled out in powerful waves from where Voldemort had been just a millisecond before, causing sparks to shoot from electrical sockets in the wall and the light fixture to fall from the ceiling. Fires sprung up around the room as more magic pulsed out, this time even causing some of the heavy furniture in the room to crack from strain._

_The fires spread. There was a carpet on the floor, which aided the flames' advance around the room. In just a few seconds the book Voldemort had placed on the floor was engulfed._

_The roof began to groan as Voldemort's magic continued to surge through the room._

_Harry left the memory just as his baby self began wailing._

Harry shivered as he surfaced from the memory, never wanting to visit again. Back into the far corner of his mind it went.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"What were you doing?" Ron also asked at the same time.

"_I'm alright. I watched the memory from when my mum…died."_ Harry paused, getting his emotions under control, before continuing. _"When you, Hermione, mentioned how Voldemort had to have time to create a horcrux before actually committing each murder, I realized that the situation when he tried to kill me would have been ideal. It also would have stroked his ego – using the murder of the boy prophesized to have the power to beat him to aid in his quest for immortality."_

"And?" Hermione asked, a sick feeling building in her stomach. Harry wouldn't have bothered to explain all of this unless he had found something significant in the memory.

"_He was setting up some sort of ritual, definitely. And he had a book with him. It looked very old. I think he was going to try to turn it into a horcrux."_

"Do you think it is still there?" Ron asked. Harry sent him a puzzled look.

"In the house. In Godric's Hollow." Ron clarified, also looking puzzled.

"_I thought the house had been completely destroyed."_

"No, Harry. No one could possibly live in it, but the remains of it are still there, along with a memorial to your parents. Didn't you know?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head, his eyes glazed.

"_No one ever told me."_

Hermione laid her hand on his arm, trying to give him comfort.

Harry shook himself out of his gloomy thoughts after a moment.

"_I don't think Voldemort succeeded in making it a horcrux, since he died and I didn't. And, there were fires in the house. I think the book may have been destroyed in them."_

"So, Godric's Hollow isn't a likely place to find a horcrux." Ron sighed.

"It might be, Ron. Voldemort has an ego, and from what we can tell, he liked placing his horcruxes in places significant to him. Even though Harry defeated him at Godric's Hollow, Voldemort may place a horcrux there just to say that he'd been defeated, but it wasn't for long, and in the end he'd win." Hermione said.

"What about the other ones? Any idea as to where those could be?" Ron asked.

"_I don't think we'll find out where the locket is until we figure out who R.A.B. is."_

"So forget about that one for now." Hermione said. "At the moment, let's just make a list of places significant to Voldemort. Maybe we'll find a place he could have hidden a horcrux."

Harry thought for a moment, reciting the facts he knew about the life of Tom Riddle in his head. Which places held importance to him? Which places signified some special moment? Which places had he hated? Which places had he loved?

"_Hogwarts."_

"What?" Ron asked in confusion.

"_Hogwarts. Voldemort hated the orphanage he stayed at. He considered Hogwarts his home."_ _Like me, _Harry thought.

"You think that there's a horcrux somewhere in Hogwarts?" Ron asked, his eyes wide. He looked around, as if expecting to see a dark object in that very room.

Harry shrugged.

"_It's a thought."_

Hermione scribbled "Hogwarts" down on a blank piece of parchment.

"What about the orphanage?" Hermione asked.

"_Maybe. He hated it there, but it was an important part of his childhood. He found out that he was a wizard there, after all." _

Hermione wrote "orphanage" down too.

"Do you remember the name of it?" She asked.

Harry sifted through his memories, trying to find the orphanage that had been the home of Tom Riddle.

"_Wool's Orphanage. It was in muggle London."_

"Brilliant. Any other places?"

"What about the graveyard where he was resurrected?" Ron asked. Harry shivered as he remembered that terrible night.

"_Very possible." _ Was all Harry signed, trying to push the unpleasant memories away.

Hermione wrote that down, too.

"Didn't he get his first job at Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley? Could that be a place?" Hermione asked. Harry shrugged.

"Worth a shot." Ron replied.

Another line on Hermione's list.

"_And we know that he already had hidden a horcrux at both the Gaunt house, and the cave. We can rule those out."_ Harry said. Hermione nodded.

"So we've got Hogwarts, Wool's Orphanage, Riddle Manor Graveyard, Godric's Hollow, and Borgin and Burkes. That's five." Hermione summarized.

"Enough for his remaining Horecruxes." Ron said. "That's brilliant."

"Well, we can wrap up now. We've got enough to at least start looking." Hermione said. Harry and Ron both nodded agreement, Harry stretching out his arms.

"_I'd say we've got about ten minutes to make it to Transfiguration."_

Ron groaned. "We'll have to run there!"

"_Let's get started then." _Harry replied dryly.

…

Harry got a note at lunch, asking him to meet McGonagall after dinner. He sighed. He had a DA meeting right before dinner, and he had been hoping that after the meal he would be able to relax, or maybe continue his delayed reading on Parselmagic.

It seemed that was not to be the case.

"What does she want?" Ron asked, reading the note over Harry's shoulder. Harry eloquently shrugged. The best idea he had was that McGonagall wanted to find out the truth about Harry's magnificent accomplishment in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and to discover how Harry had managed it.

After all, he reminded himself, it wasn't every day that a student, seventh year or no, managed a corporeal patronus. Unheard of that the student managed it silently, let alone without a wand.

Harry smirked as he remembered this.

"You didn't do anything, did you?" Hermione asked, concerned that Harry had done something against the rules. Harry rolled his eyes and waved a hand in the air. _Of course not_, the gesture said. He tucked the note in his bag and resumed eating,

…

"Harry! I did it!" Neville shouted gleefully that night, as everyone practiced _expelliarmus_. Silently, of course.

Harry walked over to where the Neville was practicing with Padma Patil. The girl was picking up her wand from the floor, looking a little surprised, and Neville was staring at his wand as if he'd never seen it before.

"_Really? Can you try again?"_ Harry asked, drawing Neville's attention from his wand.

"Ye…Yeah…" Neville stuttered. He turned to Padma, who was watching them.

"Harry wants us…"

"To try again, I know." Padma finished for Neville, smiling at Harry. _"I've been studying sign language."_ She explained, and Harry's face lit in a grin.

"_Thanks, Padma. It means a lot."_

The girl accepted Harry's thanks with a nod of her head, and it struck Harry how much more sedate she was than her gryffindor twin, Parvati. Mentally, he shrugged. Parvati was a gryffindor; she was bound to be fierier than Padma, a ravenclaw.

"_Alright, now, could you try it again, Neville? I'd like to see."_

"Ready, Padma?" Neville asked. She nodded, and Neville readied his wand.

A deep breath later and Neville was swishing his wand in the well-rehearsed movements for _expelliarmus_. Padma's wand tugged at her grip, but the spell didn't have enough power to completely disarm her.

"_Try again, Neville._" Harry said. Neville nodded and took his stance once more, setting his face into a determined expression.

This time Padma's wand went flying out of her grip. Neville jumped up and down in victory, a grin spread across his mouth.

"_Brilliant! I knew you could do it." _Harry said, after clapping Neville on the back.

"Nice one, Neville." Padma congratulated.

"Thanks!" Neville said.

"_Just keep practicing until you can do it easily. Then you'll be ready to start working on the more advanced spells with Hermione, Michael, Ginny, and Cho."_

"What will be next?" Neville asked, curious about what he would be doing once he'd fully gotten the hang of the disarming spell silently.

"_Stunners, Cutters, and Petrifiers."_

"Sounds hard." Neville commented.

"_Not too hard."_ Harry replied, shrugging. _"It took me a few weeks just to summon a broom, or levitate a plate. I didn't start combat spells until a few weeks before coming back to Hogwarts. You've actually been doing pretty well."_

Neville beamed at the praise.

"Harry! Michael is ready to move onto something else!" Hermione called from across the room.

"_Got to go." _Harry signed quickly. Neville nodded, and Harry dashed away.

Michael Corner was probably the most powerful student in the DA, aside from Harry. He had been progressing through the spells Harry set him rapidly, taking only a meeting or two to master a spell silently.

Harry was beginning to think he should start Michael on the sixth year defense spells as opposed to the third and fourth year spells the rest of the group had been studying; the ravenclaw was that good.

…

Harry trudged to the Headmistress's office that night, having just wolfed down his dinner of roasted chicken with potatoes and Yorkshire puddings. It had been delicious, but Harry hadn't taken the time he would have liked to enjoy it, due to his meeting with McGonagall.

He signed the gryffindor common room password to the gargoyle, and the stone creature jumped aside to let Harry pass onto the ascending staircase.

"Come in." McGonagall called when Harry knocked.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter. Have a seat." McGonagall said as Harry entered the office. Harry nodded his thanks and plopped into a cushioned chair, setting his book bag down beside him.

He raised his eyebrow inquisitively, hoping that the Headmistress would tell him why she had called for him.

"I do know a little sign language, by now, Mr. Potter, but I'm afraid I'm not up to your standard yet. For now, I think you had better write down your responses." McGonagall said, straightening a few items on her desk. Harry nodded and withdrew his notepad and pen from his book bag, and clicked the pen open so that he was prepared to write.

"First of all, how have you been managing in classes?" McGonagall asked.

"_Fine. The professors don't really call on me, except for Professor Weasley, and if I decide to answer a question another student has to translate. It hasn't really been a problem, though." _Harry wrote, afterwards showing his message to McGonagall.

McGonagall nodded as if this was what she had expected.

"And none of the other students are giving you trouble?" the Headmistress asked.

"_Nothing I can't handle, Headmistress."_ Harry wrote, thinking how Hermione was still thinking of some way for him to circumvent his vow.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow at his response, but continued in her questions.

"I see. Mr. Potter, although I am interested in how you have been managing, the main reason you are here is because I wished for a confirmation of something Professor Weasley told me about today's defense class. Is it true that you cast a wandless corporeal patronus?"

Harry grinned.

"_Yes."_

"How?"

"_I succeeded with my first intentional wandless spell this morning. I felt ambitious in Defense class and managed it. It started off as a simple shield-form patronus, but then when I put more magic into it, it morphed into my stag."_

"Only this morning?" McGonagall asked, seemingly a bit dazed. "Which spell was your first success?"

"_It was a levitation spell on a feather."_

"Something so small…do you know how this is possible?"

"_I have connected to my magical core, Headmistress."_

That was enough to make McGonagall lean back in her chair, a perfectly stunned expressions painting her features.

She didn't speak for a moment.

"That is supposed to be nearly impossible, Mr. Potter. Only Dumbledore had connected to his core recently, as far as I know. It takes immense power."

Harry nodded, showing that he knew what she had just stated.

"And you…when did you accomplish this?"

"_Nearly two weeks ago, Headmistress."_

"You do realize how dangerous that was?"

Harry nodded.

"Why did you do it, knowing the risks?"

"_I think that Voldemort has also connected to his core. A connection to your magical core is the only way to truly master wandless magic, and Voldemort is capable of quite a bit of wandless magic. I need to be on even footing with him."_

"You took all those risks just for the chance to have a better chance of defeating You-Know-Who?"

Harry nodded.

"_I also think that since he is a Parselmouth, he will have at the very least dabbled in Parselmagic. That is the next thing I will be studying."_

"Parselmagic is considered dark, Mr. Potter. Besides that, you would be incapable of performing it." McGonagall said sharply.

"_Why should I be incapable, Headmistress?"_

"For one, you aren't a Parselmouth. The only living one is You-Know-Who. Second, you are mute." She certainly was blunt. His mention of supposedly "dark" magic had apparently alarmed her.

Harry realized that Dumbledore must have placed his spell on the staff as well. Should Harry let her in on his secret? It wasn't as if she would hand him in to the ministry for it, but her reaction probably wouldn't be pleased. On the other hand, if she knew, then she would still be able to be his counselor, or sorts. Harry didn't delude himself. He knew that he needed someone experienced to help him along, and without Dumbledore, McGonagall was his best option. If he wanted her help, though, she would need to know about all of his abilities.

"_Headmistress, I need someone to help me through this war. I am only seventeen – yet I must defeat Voldemort. Dumbledore was my guidance, and now that he has been murdered, I need someone else to help me. You are my best option._"

"I will certainly be happy to aid you in any way I can, Mr. Potter. But I think that you should stay away from dark magics."

"_I have no intention of becoming a dark lord, Headmistress. However, I do have to seize any advantage I can gain over Voldemort. He is an experienced and powerful wizard, and anything I can do to increase my odds of winning I will do. That does not mean I will sacrifice my morals. I want your help, but you will not be able to help me unless you trust me." _Would he be able to trust her with his plans?


	35. Trust and Aid

I do not own Harry Potter.

...

His message made McGonagall lean back in her chair and consider his words.

"I trust you, Mr. Potter, and I certainly can't leave you on your own to defeat someone like You-Know-Who. However, your words are a trifle alarming. I cannot imagine why you would even mention Parselmagic. Were you aware that it is dark magic?"

_"I am fully aware of the status of Parselmagic and Parselmouths, Headmistress. In fact, this is why I need your trust. Tell me, what do you remember of my second year? Five years ago?"_

"Well, it would be a hard year for me to forget. The Chamber of Secrets was opened, as you well know. You defeated the basilisk after finding the Chamber."

_"Dumbledore placed a mass memory charm on the inhabitants of the castle at the end of second year. Apparently, it covered the staff as well as the students."_ He showed the message to McGonagall, preparing to write. A lot.

"What…what happened that he needed to cover up?" McGonagall asked, seemingly a little shocked.

_"You remember that dueling club that Lockheart started? I was revealed as a Parselmouth in a duel when Malfoy conjured a snake. The whole school thought that I was the Heir of Slytherin because of it."_

McGonagall read his message with wide eyes.

"I…remember now. Quite a few of the staff were wary that you were becoming a dark wizard."

_"I was never a dark wizard; I can't help that I have the Parseltongue genes."_

"Of course. However, why is this relevant? You are still a mute."

_"I can still speak Parseltongue."_

That message caused McGonagall to be silent for a moment.

"Why? I thought that your vocal chords were burned away."

_"They were…at least my human ones. Apparently, I have three passages in my neck instead of two – the two that everyone has in addition to one with a serpent's vocal chords. Muscles control which set of vocal chords are being used."_

"And how do you know this?"

Harry looked at his lap sheepishly, before writing his response.

_"A snake told me. He was the son of Voldemort's familiar, Nagini. Voldemort was the one who'd done the research on Parselmouths."_

Again, McGonagall was stunned.

_"I want to master Parselmagic. I don't know how far Voldemort has gone with it, but I'm certain that he has investigated it. If I can manage it, it will help to put me on an even footing with Voldemort."_

"How do you intend to study it? All books on the subject have been confiscated by the ministry."

_"I have a book on it. Hermione bought it for me, I'm guessing in Knockturn Alley. I also will have access to the library in the Black ancestral home, which has many books on dark magic. I am hoping to find a book on Parselmagic there."_

"Well, Mr. Potter, you seem very well prepared to me. However, I advise you not to let anyone else know of your Parseltongue abilities. You never know what the ministry would do."

_"I never intended to, Headmistress."_

"If you want my help, I'm not really sure what I can offer you. I am not as powerful, nor as wise as Dumbledore. I believe you have far surpassed me in magical power, as well."

_"Actually, there is something you can do.__" Harry wrote. The time had come where help was needed. His heart began to pound as he wrote his next sentence – he was putting his absolute trust in the headmistress; no secrets now._ _"Do you know anything about horcruxes?"_

"I have heard of them, but only know that they are the very darkest magic and hold a fragment of a soul."

_"Voldemort has created horcruxes. Seven, Dumbledore believed. Dumbledore also thought that Voldemort targeted objects that used to belong to the founders to make his horcruxes. We know that two of them have been destroyed already, the diary I brought from the Chamber of Secrets, and the cursed ring that Dumbledore had last year. We know of two others, as well. One is what Dumbledore and I went searching for at the end of last year – a locket belonging to Slytherin. The locket, when I retrieved it from Dumbledore's body, turned out to be a fake. Someone named 'R.A.B.' stole the real one and replaced it with a replica. The other one we know of is a cup belonging to Hufflepuff. It was stolen by Voldemort after he murdered its owner, Hepzibah Smith, and has been missing ever since."_

"Am I right to presume that your mission from Dumbledore is to track down these…things…and to destroy them?"

_"Yes. Hermione, Ron, and I have made a list of objects that we suspect Voldemort would target to make horcruxes, and a list of locations where he may have hidden them. We hope to start looking soon."_

"Two were destroyed, you said? Leaving five?" Harry nodded. "And you know what two of them are, leaving three?" Again, Harry nodded. "What other items do you suspect?"

_"There is a diadem that used to belong to Rowena Ravenclaw. It went missing after Helena Ravenclaw stole it and fled to Albania."_

"And Albania was where You-Know-Who was hiding," McGonagall said, connecting the dots. Harry nodded.

"What about Gryffindor? You said that You-Know-Who was collecting an object from each founder."

_"We didn't find any notable objects that Gryffindor left behind, apart from his sword. We do not think that the sword is a horcrux, however, as when I used it in the Chamber there was no dark magic surrounding it, and it was been in Dumbledore's office for years."_

McGonagall nodded in agreement.

"I cannot argue with your reasoning, Mr. Potter. Does this mean that you have no idea what the other two objects are?"

Harry shook his head, and McGonagall became quiet, thinking.

"Did You-Know-Who wish to create seven horcruxes, or seven parts to his soul?" McGonagall asked. Harry shot her a puzzled expression.

"If he wished to create seven horcruxes, then there would be eight parts to his soul, as one part still would reside in him. However, if he wished to create seven parts to his soul, there would only be six horcruxes."

Harry did the mental tallying and realized that McGonagall was right. How had they overlooked this?

_"He wished to make seven soul pieces. This means that we are closer than we thought!"_

McGonagall gave him a small smile, happy that she had helped, even though it was in a small way.

"What about the places where they may be hidden?"

_"Voldemort seemed to like hiding them in places significant to his past. The ring was in his grandfather's house, and the fake locket was in the cave where he tortured his first victims. I don't know where the diary was – though I suspect that Lucius Malfoy was the one who smuggled it into Hogwarts, I have no idea where he got it from. We think that Voldemort may have hidden horcruxes in Godric's Hollow, Riddle Manor, Borgin and Burkes, the orphanage where he grew up, and Hogwarts."_

"Hogwarts?" McGonagall asked. It looked as if her mouth had gone dry. Harry nodded solemnly. "Why?"

_"He hated his orphanage. He considered Hogwarts his home, and it would stoke his ego to have hidden something like a horcrux right under Dumbledore's nose."_

_"_Again, I can see no fault in your reasoning, which is what worries me. Surely if there was something as dark as a horcrux in Hogwarts, someone would have noticed by now?"

_"Hogwarts is a huge castle, Headmistress, with many secret rooms and passages. There are so many places that are not frequented regularly; it would not surprise me if Voldemort had managed to hide a horcrux here."_

McGonagall sighed.

"Am I to assume you will be searching Hogwarts for this horcrux first, as it is the easiest to access?" Harry nodded. "Unfortunately, I do not know the hidden ways of the school as well as I could. All I can offer are these," McGonagall wrote something on a piece of parchment, and then duplicated it twice so that there were three of them. She handed them to Harry.

"Although I do not advise that you go walking around the school after curfew without trying to hide it, those are passes that will keep you from getting into trouble should you be spotted. Please make sure you get enough sleep."

_"Thank you, Headmistress."_

"Come to me if you need anything else."

Harry stood and stretched his muscles, then cast a _tempus_. He hadn't realized it, but he and McGonagall had been talking for nearly two hours.

_"Just one last thing, Headmistress. You don't have any idea who R.A.B. is, do you?"_Harry wrote.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Potter. If I hear of someone who has those initials, I will tell you. I will keep this entire discussion a secret, of course."

Harry nodded, and gave McGonagall a small smile to show his gratefulness.

"Goodnight, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded, slinging his book bag over his shoulder. He had ten minutes left before curfew.

…

The next morning – a Saturday - Harry filled both Ron and Hermione in on the conversation he'd had with McGonagall and gave them each one of the passes the headmistress had provided him with.

"This is great, Harry!" Hermione said. "We can also use our prefect patrols as another excuse."

"Where do you think we should look first?" Ron asked.

_"The best plan I have right now is to search the castle, floor by floor._"

"That will take ages!" Ron protested.

_"I know."_Harry signed, his shoulders slumped.

"Well he wouldn't have been able to hide anything in the areas where people go regularly." Hermione pointed out. "That means that the library, Great Hall, Entrance Hall, and common rooms, and dorms are out."

"Oh, bloody brilliant. That still leaves most of the school! Seven floors and the dungeons, not counting the grounds and towers!" Ron said. Hermione ignored him, instead turning to Harry.

"What places in Hogwarts would have been special to Voldemort?"

Harry scratched his head, processing the information he knew about Tom Riddle's time in Hogwarts.

_"He was close to Professor Slughorn, though I don't think he would have managed to hide anything in the Professor's office or the potions classroom. The only other thing I know about him at Hogwarts was that he was a prefect."_

"That's not very helpful." Ron complained. Harry shrugged.

"Why don't you look over the Marauder's Map? Maybe you'll find a room that is a likely hiding spot." Hermione suggested.

_"Alright."_ Harry signed, resigned that there weren't many other options at the time.

"In the meantime, I'm going to research Unbreakable Vows." Hermione continued. "Maybe I can figure out some way to break them."

"I don't think that's possible. I mean, they're called Unbreakable Vows for a reason, Hermione." Ron said. Harry nodded in agreement.

Hermione shrugged. "If I can find out how they work, then maybe I can figure out how to make them break. It's worth a try, and shouldn't take too long."

"If Harry's going to be looking over the Marauder's Map, and you're going to be researching vows, then what will I do?" Ron asked.

Hermione's grin was positively frightening.

…

"I don't know why I should be writing this essay, it isn't even due for another four days…" Ron grumbled.

Harry huffed quietly without looking up from his own subject of study, the Marauder's Map. Ron took this as agreement, and continued.

"I mean, it's not as if I really need to do it yet. Why Hermione makes me do homework nearly a week before it's due is a mystery."

Harry finally looked up, accepting that Ron wanted to turn this into a conversation.

_"You know she can't actually make you do anything."_Harry pointed out. Ron seemed at a loss for words for a minute.

"Hey…you're right. You know, I think I'll just go get that Muggle magazine my dad gave me before we left…"

"What was that, Ron?" Hermione asked in a honeyed tone, coming up to their table in the common room. The red-head gulped.

"Err…I was just asking Harry about something for my essay." Ron lied. Harry could have sworn that he saw a glimmer of sweat on his friend's brow.

"And what was your question, Ronald?" Hermione asked, still in that honey-soaked voice.

Ron glanced quickly down at his essay, trying to come up with a suitable lie.

"Erm…what is the best way to harvest tentacula leaves?" Ron said. Hermione raised an eyebrow, casting her own eye over his essay.

"I see. And why do you need to ask that for a potions essay?"

Ron looked desperately at Harry, seeking back-up. Harry just shook his head. Ron was on his own.

"I was just…curious?" Ron said, trying his excuse out. Then he decided it was a good excuse, apparently, because he repeated it, in a firmer tone: "I was just curious."

"I see. Then you won't mind finishing the essay today, will you?"

"Err…I guess not." Ron said, defeated. Hermione smiled triumphantly, and then turned to Harry.

"Actually, I came back to the common room because I found something."

Harry raised his eyebrow, inviting her to continue.

"Unbreakable vows are linked to your magical core. The details weren't specified, but the vow actually uses a portion of your own magic to kill you if a set of conditions determined by the individual vow are broken." Hermione explained.

"Bloody brilliant. How will that help us?" Ron asked. Hermione turned her disapproving gaze onto the red-head.

"If we can find out how it is linked to Harry's core, maybe Harry can find his core again and dismantle the vow."

Ron's mouth dropped open.

"But Unbreakable Vows are…well, unbreakable! You're saying Harry could just go in and get rid of it?"

"Theoretically. Of course, I don't expect it would be easy, and it will probably take a while to find the right information so that Harry would be prepared to try. I'm going to be doing further research on the vow, Harry, but I'll also look for other methods that you could use to communicate."

_"Couldn't I just find my core again and try to do it? I mean, we know that it is linked to my core. Wouldn't I be able to figure it out?"_Harry asked.

"No! You don't understand. Magical cores are extremely volatile. That is why it is so dangerous to link with one. If you did something wrong, you could end up a squib, or disabled, or even dead. With the right provocation, magical cores explode, possibly destroying the wizard as well as causing mass damage to their surroundings. You can't mess with it, Harry." Hermione said.

_"Alright, I get it. I won't do anything stupid, I promise."_Harry soothed. Hermione sighed with relief.

"Good. How's the examination of the map going?" she asked.

_"Haven't found anything, really. I know most of the passages and rooms on here."_ Harry signed.

_"_Well, keep looking. You never know." Hermione said. "I'm going back to the library. I'll meet you in the great hall for lunch. Make sure that essay gets finished, Ron."

Ron groaned after Hermione left.

"Why do I listen to her?" Ron asked, mostly to himself.

_"Because she scares you?"_ Harry asked innocently.

"She does _not_ scare me. She can just be…intimidating."

"_Yeah. I guess I know what you mean."_


End file.
